Secret Scribbler Steele!
by BannersAndMash
Summary: Slightly OOC. Ana is in her final year at WSU, but she keeps a secret journal of her fantasies. What happens when she meets the man of her dreams and he is a very real Dominant? Loosely follows FSOG
1. Chapter 1

Trying something new here. Ana is still a final-year at WSU, but she has a secret hobby. How will she feel when her fantasy man turns out to be a very real Dominant? She is a more confident person, and not quite so naieve.

Wattle - you rock!

* * *

Chapter 1

"What the Hell do you think you are doing?"

My eyes fly open and my Master is standing over me, grey eyes blazing, his tall frame casting a long shadow over my bed in the late afternoon sun. I have been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Literally and figuratively.

With a single yank he pulls off the thin patchwork bedspread. My naked body is completely exposed. I drop my hands to my side, but its too late for that. My left hand was playing with my nipple, my right hand was well on its way to bringing me to a delicious pre-dinner climax.

I turn my head in embarrassment as he grabs my hand. Tracing the wetness with his thumb I know he is studying it. He will know how long I have been up here, having a little solo fun.

"Anastasia Rose Steele, I demand an answer!" I swallow. He has used my full name. This is not going to end well.

"I'm sorry, Master, I did not think you would be home so early."

"Really?" His eyebrow arches. "And are you in the habit of disobeying my explicit instructions?" I wince as he squeezes my wrist.

I try to control my breathing. "No, Master, I am not in the habit of disobeying explicit instructions." Better to repeat exactly what he says. I am not in the habit of being disrespectful to my Master.

He curls his finger against the silver collar that has been locked around my neck for one year, eight months and three days. "Have you forgotten what this represents?"

"No Master, I have not." I try to sound suitably chastised. I'm sorry I got caught, and I'm going to be really sorry later this evening. I am submissive to my Master, and today I let my own poor choices and arousal get the better of me.

He plunges two fingers deep inside me, thrusting in with each word. "This. Is. Mine. Do. You. Understand?" He knows what he is doing; each penetration is bringing me closer to my release. I gasp, knowing I am nearly at the point of no return. He withdraws his fingers just as suddenly. He opens the drawer on my bedside cabinet. "I refuse to have a sub who acts like a brat."

He taps my lips. "Open". I do as I'm told. He places a riding crop between my teeth and turns on his heel. 'Playroom. Now.'

I know I am in trouble, as I get out of bed as gracefully as I can. I link my hands behind my back, lower my head and follow my Master to my punishment.

* * *

'Ana! Aaaannnaa!' I slam my laptop shut. 'What are you doing in there?'

'Nothing special, Kate.' My voice is unnaturally high. 'Just revising, you know. Finals are soon.' There she is, all long limbs and blond hair, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. She is dressed to impress this evening, in a short dress from Nordstrom showing off her svelte figure, teamed with a pair of Celine heels that make her legs appear even longer than they are.

"You study too hard, Ana. Save it for grad school."

I give a light laugh. Grad school indeed. I do feel bad lying to her. She's my best friend and room-mate. But this is my secret, my guilty little secret. I'm Anastasia Steele, but my friends call me Ana. I'm 21 years old, in my final semester as an English Literature major in WSU, I'm a bit clumsy, quiet, shy, reserved, and, oh, I like to write erotica. I love to write erotica. It's not for anyone but me, and it only features me and my nameless, totally imaginary, Master. I know exactly what he looks like; grey eyes, slightly curling hair, a little older than me with a hot body and a firm hand ... but I digress. I have had a couple of dates, but there has never been anybody special in my life. Look around my room; I prefer to be surrounded by books than people. The paper kind are my worthy classics, what everybody expects Ana Steele to read, but my e-reader – well, that's another library altogether!

"Earth to Ana, come in Ana!" Kate is waving her hand in front of my face.

"Sorry, Kate, was off in my own world again.'"

"You spend too much time with your heroes and heroines of ye-olde-times, come out with Jose and I tonight." I shake my head and point to my books 'Plllleeease? You could do with letting your hair down."

"Not tonight Kate. Definitely after finals, I promise. I want to study." As if. I could sit my exams now and not break a sweat. She comes over and gives me a quick hug, and I'm almost suffocated in Mademoiselle CoCo, but hey, what a way to go. 'Don't forget to wear a coat, you'll catch your death in that dress.'

She tuts loudly. 'I'm fine, Mommy!' The door opens, and closes with a soft snick. I'm on my own again. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was on my way to the playroom...

* * *

The gentle knocking at my door becomes a little louder, the voice changing from a hoarse whisper to a snot-filled wail. "Come on in, Kate." In shuffles my supermodel room-mate, not quite a supermodel at the moment in pink bunny jammies and purple spotted slipper-socks.

"I'm siiiiick" she pouts, and blows her nose, the trumpeting reverberating around my small room. "Ana, please would you do my interview today? I can't meet the famous Christian Grey looking like this." As if to prove her point she comes closer and peers into my face. "Please? I left all my things ready last night." She has been talking about this interview for the past week, and now she's losing her big moment. I can't say no, but she isn't so sick that I can't give her a gentle reprimand.

"Last night, before you left without a coat" She nods, suitably chastised. I pull myself up, swing my little short legs out of the bed and shoo her away. "You owe me Kavanagh." I love Kate dearly, but interviewing some faceless CEO is not how I planned to spend my day. I start to rootle through my wardrobe for something that looks CEO-worthy. Clothes don't really interest me, in my own stories I'm nearly always naked anyway, and if I'm dressed it's in designer gear from Neimanns. I can't afford it real life, so why torture myself? I finally find a skirt from Old Navy and a blue sweater from Banana Republic, that I got in the sale last fall. This will do.

Kate shuffles out again, doing the best impression of a 5' 8" Yoda that I've ever seen, and returns with her cute little black patent Cambridge satchel. "There's my questions, my note book, my lucky pencil, and, in case you need it, my voice recorder." She hands me the keys to her Mercedes. "You may as well get there in once piece, Ana." I give a loud humph. Everybody complains about my little VW Bug, Wanda. She might be held together with rust and prayers, but she's mine, and she's got character. I'll save the flashy German engineering for my stories; my humble little Teutonic beetle will take me through for another few years.

* * *

In Kate's slick car the miles just whizz by on the interstate. I don't like taking Wanda on the interstate, but I prefer using the highways anyway. There is a whole country out there to see, and it passes us by when we hop on I5. The GPS leads me to GEH, a monument to glass, concrete and steel. I snigger to myself at the idea of it being a monument to me, Ana Steele. Modern architecture never really appeals to me, but this building is amazing; it manages to be sleek, and new, yet fits in with its surroundings. I bet Mr Christian Grey is some middle-aged man high in his ivory tower with a comb-over and a paunch from over eating.

I manage to enter through the smoked glass doors without bashing my nose. That's an achievement in itself. A shiny stepford-style blond looks up from her desk.

"Can I help you Madam?" Madam, holy crap, I'm 21 and she's addressing me as if I were 41. Actually when I'm 41 I don't want to be called Madam either.

"Uhm, yes, I'm Ana Steele, I'm here to see Christian Grey, I mean, Mr Christian, no, Mr Grey." Why on earth does a well-cut blonde bob and MaxMara suit make me so nervous? I am out of my depth here. Deep breaths, Ana, you can do this.

"Second elevator on the left, press the grey button. You will exit on the 20th floor" Of course. If my stomach wasn't already in knots, the speed of the elevator whisking me to meet the elusive Mr Christian Grey. I would have looked in the satchel if I had time, but I didn't even to get to the second buckle before the doors slid open and another blonde, identical to the other one looked up at me.

"Miss Steele." She sounds so efficient. I manage a nod and a 'yes'. "Let me take your coat. Have a seat. Mr Grey will be with you soon." She is polite, but not friendly. What did I expect, this isn't Claytons, the little hardware store where I work part time. My mind drifts off as I think of all the different things on sale in Claytons that have featured in my stories with my Master. Hummmmm.

"Miss Steele, Mr Grey will see you now. Please just enter." I look up to see a tall, attractive man leave from an office to the right. I stand up, smooth down my skirt and walk towards the door, willing myself to take these five steps without falling over myself. I get to the door, and don't ask me how, I trip over my own two left feet! I fall into the office, and in my mortification I am aware of someone holding my arm and helping me to my feet. I look up into those silver-grey eyes.

No. my . god. It was all in my imagination before this, but I have just seen my Master made man.


	2. Chapter 2

1. Thank you for reading. I suppose we can all embrace our inner Ana :)

2. This Ana isn't the Ana of canon - she's a bit more clued in. But how clued in? We shall see later :)

3. Thank you perhaps perhaps perhaps! Should be sorted now:)

* * *

Chapter 2

He helps me to my feet, and I look up at this, this amazing specimen of a man. He is dressed in a suit so beautifully cut it must be from Savile Row, and it's obvious that he works out. At 5' 2", I'm not exactly willowy, and he must be nearly a full foot taller than me. I'm going to throttle Kate when I get home. She has been talking about this interview all week and failed to mention that he was the most handsome man I would ever lay eyes on. Matt Bomer is a mouth breathing troglodyte compared to the Adonis standing before me. I might still be a virgin, but I know a fuckable guy when I see him.

* * *

"Miss Kavanagh, good afternoon. I'm Christian Grey." All I can do is stare in awe.

His voice is a smooth baritone. I visualise myself kneeling, blindfolded, that voice surrounding me, cocooning me, as I surrender to his will. Those eyes. I have easily written 1,000 words describing his eyes, and I could easily write 10,000 more. I have seen them in my dreams, bright silver grey, glinting through a domino mask; he lounges an Eames chair whilst I dance seductively for his pleasure. His hair is different to what I imagined, but being a redhead isn't a deal breaker for me. It's not red, Ana, it's copper, I remind myself as I continue with my mental notes for later reflection.

"I said, Miss Kavanagh?"

"Oh, no, I'm Ana. Ana Steele, I mean Miss Steele." Great, I can't even get my name out in the presence of this man. This is not the time to have a brain-to-mouth malfunction. I am an English major, I have a vocabulary of 50,000 words and here I am, up-talking like a Tri-Delt during Rush week.

"I was expecting Miss Kavanagh." I'm not sure whether he is annoyed or not. I get the impression he likes things his way. Oh, yes Master C! I could faciliate that!

"No, uhm, Kate, Miss Kavanagh couldn't make it. She is unwell and asked me to come in her place."

I take his extended hand and when we connect, I feel a spark between us; his firm handshake sending tremors through my body. Up until now I thought that it was just a literary device, an easy way to describe attraction. I stand (just about) corrected when he gestures to the sofa. "Please, Miss Steele, have a seat." I sink into the soft white leather, relieved to avoid the likelihood of tripping over myself. Again.

I fumble with the buckles on the satchel, and lift out Kate's notes, along with her shorthand book. Kate, ever the professional journo, actually uses shorthand, but I decide to with the Dictaphone stifling a giggle to myself at the word 'dick'. I wonder what his dick looks like. Shaft, length, hardness, arousal, throbbing member... Throbbing member? Seriously? Focus Steele, save it for the laptop. I think my mantra today has been changed from 'Don't fall over your feet' to 'save it for the laptop'. I have already fallen over my feet, so the point is moot anyway.

"Is it okay if I record your answers, Sir?" I swear he is smirking behind that long slender finger that's resting across his lips, his thumb curled under his chin.

"Permission granted, Miss Steele." I have two reasons to record this; one for Kate and one for me. This is the voice of my Master, and my little secret is going to take on a whole new dimension. I read off the questions, and he answers them with cool efficiency. There's nothing that's too challenging here. Well, it is for the school newspaper, and as he's just told me he's a benefactor of WSU, even I know that Kate isn't planning a supermarket-shelf exposé on him.

I'm torn between looking at him, composing my detailed images for later, and dropping my eyes to the ground, like the submissive Ana of my stories. My discomfort seems to amuse him, his body language exuding confidence, control and power. He is dominating the room, and dominating me, just not in the way that I want.

"Are you gay, Mr Grey?" I make a mental note to take Kate into resus so that I can kill her again. I mean, who doesn't enjoy reading a bit of guy/guy erotica, but this is my Master! He cannot be gay. It will ruin my fantasy world. Looking from the questions to the voice recorder to my interviewee, I want to curl up and die. He does not look pleased.

"No, Miss Steele, I am not." The room has chilled at least 20 degrees.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just one of the questions that have been written here." I feel like a disobedient child, explaining the mess in my bedroom.

"It is a poor journalist who does not prepare her own questions." His eyes are cold now, greyer than the Seattle clouds outside.

"They aren't my questions. Kate, Miss Kavanagh, my roommate, wrote them. I am not on the student paper, Sir."

"I see." He relaxes again, but I don't. "I shall forgive you this trespass Miss Steele." I swallow and nod. "Shall we continue?" As I flit through the rest of the notes, double checking for any other dubious questions, the silence is interrupted by a knock. Crap. My time is up and I've barely touched a quarter of the questions that were listed.

He looks up at the blonde hovering at the door. "Cancel my next appointment, Andrea. I am not finished." I move to pack up my things but he raises his hand. "No, Miss Steele. We are not finished." Andrea nods and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

He steeples his fingers, forefingers touching his lips. "So Miss Steele, what are your plans after graduation?"

What? Why on earth would he care about this? "I hope to go into publishing, specifically Literary Fiction." I'm such a big fat liar, and I'm lying to myself. I would dearly love to share my own work with the world, or to read the secret writings of other brave women who want to be published.

"Perhaps you would be interested in an internship with GEH." It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

"I don't think so, Sir."

"Why not?" He looks a bit annoyed.

"I'm not sure that I'd would be a good fit for your company." I wouldn't fit in because I'm not an identikit blonde in a sharp suit. I wouldn't fit in because the idea of being in a large faceless company leaves me cold. Ok, this isn't a large faceless company, that face could be buried in my puss any day, but I wouldn't fit in because I would get no work done. Once again, my imagination takes over. Myself and my Master Christian in the filing room, giving him head behind the Leiktriever; in the server room whilst I masturbate for him, in this office bent over that desk whilst he spanks my ass hard and I'm begging for more, counting each delicious smack. No, working here would not a good idea.

"No 'Sir'?" The smirk is back.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have addressed me as 'Sir' the entire interview and now you choose not to. I'm curious."

My mind whizzes back over the interview. He is right, I did call him Sir. What was I thinking? His voice breaks through my thoughts.

"Consider my offer Miss Steele. You might be surprised how much you would like it here."

* * *

He offers me his hands and helps me to my feet. I'm grateful for the assistance, as the sofa was so soft, and low. As I stand, at first a little wobbly on my heels, he steadies me, and then in one smooth move, he twists my hands behind my back. I give a quiet gasp in shock, and he effortlessly holds my wrists in one expert, firm grip. Now his sexual prisoner, he walks me backwards across the office until I feel my behind touch the table. Using his free hand, Master lifts my hips just a few inches and I'm perched on the edge of the desk, my feet skimming helplessly over the carpet. A hand snakes between my knees, and I spread my legs without a word.

I hear him groan softly as he caresses the tops of my thighs, his fingers brushing along the lace top of my stockings. "Good girl," he whispers. I have dressed as he requested. He releases my wrists, but says "Do not move." The muscles in my stomach will ache if I have to hold this position, but it isn't for long. Master gives me a smirk, and tugs his silver-grey tie free. He moves his slim hips between mine, and his arousal is evident beneath the fine-woven wool of his pants. His arms envelope me, but it is not a hug, reaching around he binds my wrists together, tugging to secure the knot. He unbuttons my blouse and pushes it off my shoulders, further restraining my arms. Standing back for a minute, he surveys his work with a smile.

"I'm not finished yet." He lifts a pair of scissors from the desk tidy and snipping the centre ribbon of my bra, my breasts are free.

"I think I will let you come today, Ana. You have been very good, and I forgive you for asking if I was gay." I can only bite my lip and nod in gratitude.

Again, he is between my thighs, growling, "Don't bite that lip!" One hand is ripping my panties from me, another hand is squeezing my breast and I groan in pleasure as I feel his teeth graze my nipple. I cannot resist his touch.

"Come for me," his voice brooks no disobedience, and I am only too happy to comply...Until a familiar voice shatters my illusion... I blink and I am back in the real world.

* * *

"Let me see you to the elevator Miss Steele." He helps me into my coat and I feel his fingers graze the nape of my neck. I can barely stop from shivering against his touch.

He presses the elevator button, and I get in. Stopping the door from closing, he smiles at me, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, now sparkling silver. "Until we meet again, Miss Steele."

Again? When are we going to meet again? I'll never see him again, so, I cannot resist. "Goodbye, Sir." The doors slide closed, and I can hardly wait to get home. I have a review to write, and a shift in Claytons to cover.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, thanks for reading!

Embrace your inner Ana!

* * *

Chapter 3

I lean back against the mirror of the elevator, and try to get any semblance of composure back. I called him "Sir" the whole way through the interview. I'm amazed I didn't get down on my knees and conduct the interview at his feet whilst calling him "Master." Hah! "Wishful thinking Steele." I'm in an elevator in one of the fanciest buildings in downtown Seattle berating myself for an entirely healthy fantasy but with completely inappropriate timing. I need to get a grip and fast. For all I know there are security cameras hers. Deep breaths Steele. I risk it and turn around and look at my reflection, and immediately wished I hadn't. My hair has escaped from my bobble, a little halo of curly ringlets, a fuzzy crown of head-pubes. Classy. That's not the worst of it though. My pupils are dilated, my cheeks are flushed pink and my lips are so red and swollen from biting on them that it looks like I've been out for a lunch time Botox session. My whole ensemble screams "Just Fucked". I wish. The elevator doors open and I all but throw the visitor pass at the Stepford Blonde receptionist before running out the open door without smashing my nose (Thank you Jeebus!) and gulping in the fresh damp air.

I must spend half an hour sitting in the car park, trying to compose myself before driving. I'm scatterbrained at the best of times, but when I drive I like to be 100% aware. Call it Ray's Law. Ray is my dad and he has a mild obsession with defensive driving, "There is nothing more crushable on the road than a human Ana." As I have no desire to be crushed by a car, I take heed of his warnings. Now, if you were to ask me would I want Master Christian's lips crushed against mine, a kiss of possession, ownership, branding, demanding my submission... that's a different story. Oh, and I would only be too happy to submit to him. I make another mental note to do some more research, although that generally ends with my fingers typing furiously before they go due south and I get some release from my tension.

I've never been to a BDSM club, or even chatted online with like-minded people. I know that there are others like me, but I'm not ready to make that leap of faith. Everyone around me is so, so normal. Maybe they aren't normal, and they keep it hidden, like me. Like Master Christian. Argh. He's not my Master. He's the CEO of his own company, a super handsome man living in his sterile bubble, and is probably dating one of those numerous blondes. They all look so much alike he's probably dating them all, and doesn't know the difference between them. I sigh, put the car into first, and pull out of the car park for the return journey home.

* * *

Kate must be feeling better. She's sitting up now, tapping furiously on her keyboard. Unlike me, she doesn't close her laptop with a guilty bang. "Ana! You are home!" I avoid her hug.

"Keep your germs away from me, Kavanagh." I laugh and head to the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove. "I'm making a tea, would you like anything?"

"No, but I do want to know about your interview."

Oh. The interview. My heart starts to flutter as it comes flooding back. "You! You! I am sooo not speaking to you!" I wag my finger like an angry school marm. "Why didn't you tell me who he was?"

She smirks "Sorry about that. Hot piece of ass, isn't he?" I roll my eyes. That is the understatement of the year. Not in the least bit perturbed by my display of annoyance, she continues her interrogation. "What was he like?"

"Formal, clipped, really well dressed, and not in the least bit happy that I asked him if he was gay." The kettle whistles and I pour the water into the mug and dunk my teabag.

"Well, is he?" Kate looked like she was about to get the scoop of the century.

I wrinkle my forehead. "Is he what? Oh, gay? He said that he wasn't. Doesn't matter anyway I suppose." Oh yes, yes, yes it does! It matters to me! My imagination has run riot over the past one year and eight months and four days (when my imaginary Master imaginarily collared me), and my dreams cannot end just like ... that.

"Anna, babes, I truly am sorry that I didn't give you a bio, but if you looked beyond Austen, and Bronte you might have seen his face." She does have a point, but business isn't my thing. The only business sites I check are for the prices for British Airways flights to London: Gatwick, Heathrow, Stanstead, Luton. I'll take any of them. The other sites, my research, are in my private browsing history.

I finish my tea and go in to change my clothes. I'm much comfier in jeans and a t-shirt anyway. "I'm going to do half a shift in Clayton's, I'll see you later"

* * *

I love working in Clayton's. I truly will be sad to leave here. The main reason is that for four years they have been like a second family to me. With Ray in Montesano and Carla, my mom, in Georgia, my urban family really have become my family. I don't know how I'd have got through the past four years without Kate, Jose, and the Claytons.

The second reason I love Clayton's is that it feeds my imagination. It is a hardware store and sells any number of things that may be useful within the lifestyle. When I read of a woman whose master had collared her with a length of security chain bought at a hardware store, I could barely measure out lengths without trembling in anticipation. What would it be like to have that smooth cold chain at your neck, the gentle weight of the padlock reminding you of ownership? Seeing the images of the slave whose master had made a hard wax mould of his own cock, filling it with rubber cement to create a personal dildo for her meant I could hardly walk down the plumbing aisle for a month without getting wet. Other staff members and customers may see Sharpie markers as useful tools for marking ceramic, glass or wood, but I imagine my Master marking me, signing his name across my breasts or ass, leaving an essay of rude words or actions over my body, describing what he did, or what he is going to do. And my decorated naked form there only for his viewing pleasure.

When I arrive home Kate is still up. "You were holding out on me, Steele!" I frown in confusion. Holding out on what? My bouncy flatmate is returning, her sickness mysteriously dissipating. "You didn't tell me her offered you an internship at his company." What do I say? I say nothing so I shrug.

"Come on, Kate, you know that isn't my kind of place. Every single woman I saw was blonde. And not honey blonde or strawberry blonde. Bottle blonde. Either that or he keeps a nice'n'easy colour card to use when interviewing prospective blondes, I mean employees." I'm rambling, and I finally clam up.

"Yeah, but HE asked you! Some people would give their right arm for that opportunity." Of course they would, and I'd give my v-card. Her eyes narrow mischievously at me. "What's with the "Sirs"?"

Buggerdy bugger. I knew she'd pick up on that. "Kate, he owns the company, it was nothing for him to own the room. In a way, he was kind of like you but without the humour. He exuded confidence and privilege and," I punched her playfully on the arm, "thanks to you, I turned into a gibbering idiot." Besides, 'Sir' didn't sound that odd with all the 'yes Mr Grey, no Mr Grey, three bags full, Mr Grey" that the blonde sheep clones bleated to him. The blones. Is that even a word? When it comes to GEH holdings, it should be on their Company Statement.

"Say what you like, Steele, but from what I have read of our Mr Christian Grey; he doesn't make offers for companies unless he's going for a corporate take-over."

I try to look nonchalant. "And how do you think that affects me?"

"He offered you an internship. Sounds to me like he wants his own takeover of Anastasia Steele Incorporated."

I throw a pillow at her to hide my blushes. She's got to be wrong, and I can't get my hopes up.

* * *

The rest of the week passes in a blur of studying, working and writing, followed by way too much self-indulgence. I might not go blind, but I'm going to end up with repetitive strain injury. For all those people that say they can't sleep before an exam, I have one solution for them. Of course, I'd never say that out loud, I'd rather curl up in a corner than share with the world. I mean, I'm pretty sure that other women do it, but I'm not the kind of person that could get up and announce it.

On my drive to Claytons, on Saturday morning, I think back to my Master Christian (oh, I'm going to HAVE to stop calling him that!), and I can just imagine him forbidding me from masturbation, tying my hands in punishment at the first infraction. Of course I'd want to please him, and the idea of him controlling even my most base needs and wants has me hot.

At lunchtime, it's a bit quieter than usual so I decide to do a bit of online stock-checking (padlocks, naturally!) whilst I'm eating my bagel. A little crumb of cream cheese slips out and I go to rescue it from the desk, scooping it on my finger, capturing its yummy goodness. I go back to my, ahem, stock take, and as I'm standing, sucking my finger, I hear the familiar chime of the bell as a customer enters. I look up, and said finger slips out from between my lips with a gentle 'pop', and my mouth doesn't seem to remember how to close.

What is Master Grey doing in Claytons?


	4. Chapter 4

Hello all, thanks for reading, and big thanks for AriadneinNaxos, DreamsofValhalla and Wattle (as usual!). I hope I caught all the American sayings :)

Embrace your inner Ana!

* * *

Chapter 4

What is Master Grey doing in Claytons? I mean, what is THE Christian Grey doing in Claytons? Granted ,it's a cool little mom and pop hardware store, but it's hardly on the 'must see' list of Vancouver. I feel such a scruff now, as this god is standing in front of me. He's head to toe Tom Ford, I'm head to toe Target. I thought I looked all right today in a t-shirt, jeans and chucks, until he walks in all effortless casual. Even his hair looks like it's been on its own fashion shoot. Thinking of my own crazed thick brown hair, I wonder if he has a personal stylist following him around. No man should look that good.

* * *

I nervously run my hand down the length of my ponytail, curling my finger around the ends. It gives me a scant two seconds to compose myself.

"Mr Grey?" My voice won't work and it comes out as a valley-girl question. He gives me a half smile, obviously amused by my shock at seeing him come through the door. If he's surprised to see me, he certainly hides it well. I suppose you don't get to be some big hot-shot CEO without having a poker face.

Finally, he puts me out of my misery. "Miss Steele, how nice to see you again." How smooth can this man be? I suppose I should be flattered he remembered my name. "I was in the area, and thought I could pick up some ... supplies."

Supplies? The man who has nearly $5,000 of clothes on his back does his own hardware shopping? Unless... no. Focus, Steele. He might have a poker face, but you've got your game face. He's a customer. And the customer is always right, in this case so righteously handsome and alpha male that I want to throw myself at his feet and wait on his command.

"Ana, I'm called Ana." I point to my left breast, and he smirks again. Rats! There should be a name badge there, and now all I've done is managed to get named as a respondent in a sexual harassment case. I look at the offending finger as if it was to blame, the Ana Steele version of Thing from the Adams Family. I try again.

"Mr Grey, please, you can call me Ana, how may I help you today?" My fake smile is plastered on, but it's going to crack.

He strokes his chin as if in deep thought, making me wait on every word. "I need a number of items, perhaps you will help me, Ana?" His voice caresses me, envelopes me, teases me. "First of all, I would like some cable ties."

Cable ties? I swallow, and try to keep my voice steady. "Of course, Mr Grey, we have a number of widths and lengths in store. Please follow me." I try to walk slowly, so as not to fall over my two left feet. I can feel my ponytail swish, the stray hairs tickling my nape, already burning from his gaze. "Here we are, aisle eight." I steal a glance at his profile as he picks up one pack, then another, and a third as if weighing up the pros and cons. I didn't think normal people had such specific requirements in a cable tie.

I want to interrupt his train of thought, with my own deranged sales pitch. _'Please Master Grey, Cable-Y brand do have a nice colour but Cable-X brand have an exceptionally long, wide-spaced grip, and will easily accommodate wrists and ankles, I know, I've measured them. In addition, you'll notice that each tie has a serial number on it, so you can send me to seek out a specific one, with an associated punishment if I fail to please.'_

"I'll take these ones." He turns to me, with Cable-X brand in his hand and I drop my gaze, and chew my lip. I hear his sharp intake of breath; could he feel something for me? Don't be silly, Steele. Focus on the customer.

"Mr Grey, is there anything else I can help you with today?" My sales patter, normally so easy, and enjoyable with the wide variety of customers that comes through the door, sounds artificial with him. "Are you in the area on business?" As I walk back to the cash desk I'm vaguely aware of him chatting to me. Something about farming or alarming, oh no, that smile is disarming.

"Tape, Miss Steele. I said I needed masking tape." Busted. I'm back to Miss Steele. I blush, I'm quite sure it's a delectable red. Oh, why can't my ass cheeks be that colour instead of my face cheeks?

"I'm terribly sorry Mr Grey, I was thinking about your farming and soil science." Please let me have got those words out in the right order. "Let me show you to the decorating aisle."

"Does that interest you, Ana?" His voice mellows somewhat, those eyes softening to a moonbeam silver.

"Um, yes, I suppose it does, I mean, I don't know much about it, but to feed the world, well, like, that's amazing." _Ladies and Gentlemen, come one, come all to see the famous Ana Steele! Not content with falling over her own feet, or pointing at her own breasts, she now takes eloquence to its nadir, she can put the 'shite' in 'erudite'._

"Here we are, Mr Grey, aisle twelve; home decoration." Again, the rolls of $4.00 tape require careful consideration. _'Oh Master Grey, if I might speak freely, this 2 inch wide tape should fit your requirements nicely. It is wide enough to use as a gag and its low adhesion quality means that it will not pull on body hair, is easily removed and is hypoallergenic. I know, I've checked.'_

"The 2-inch width will do nicely, Ana, thank you." I blush. Again. I'm pretty sure he is reading my mind.

I take the tape from him, and our fingers touch. It only our fingertips but I feel it everywhere. I peek up at those eyes, and he's staring at me again. "Can I get you anything else, Mr Grey?" By now it's nearly a squeak. He surveys the nearby aisles, and points to the back counter.

"Yes, Ana, I'd like some rope," I open my mouth to ask him what kind, but he beats me to it "five yards, natural filament, undyed." He strides off in front of me and all I manage to do is follow behind him. Submissively. Of course this does give me a chance to look at that glorious ass of his; Kate was right, he is a hot piece of ass. _'Oh yes, excellent choice Master, the natural filament will chafe more if you fight against it, and the non-synthetic fibres give it a less tensile quality.'_

My hands are trembling as I manage to cut the rope (without cutting my fingers) coil, and knot it.

"I never pictured you as a girl scout, Ana." He's laughing at me. I give a slight frown. This man must know how unlawfully handsome he is; women must throw themselves at him all the time, and I'm about to join their ranks. I've seen his staff in awe of him, and they see him every day – where does that leave someone like me who sees him when she's sucking cream cheese off her fingers?

I manage a response. "Group activities aren't my thing, Mr Grey."

A perfect eyebrow arches. "Oh, and what is your thing, Ana?"

"Books, classics, I'm majoring in English Literature." I'm not sure if that's an answer, but it's all I can manage. I pick up the rope and the tape, and try to be casual. "Okay, Mr Grey, shall I ring these items up for you?"

"Should it not be the customer who controls when he is finished shopping?" Why is he making me feel like this? On one hand I want him, but on the other I can't wait to see the back of him. Why am I so frustrated?

"I'm terribly sorry Sir, is there anything else I can get you today?" I want to curl up. I went to 'sir' again. He noticed too, and he gives me a knowing smile, some in-grin to which only he is privy.

"What do you suggest, Ana?"

"What do I suggest?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure you heard me."

_Velcro, split rings, duct tape, curtain poles make a semi-decent spreader bar, a couple of two-by-fours will make an excellent St Andrew's cross, you can't forget batteries for a vibrator, some low melt candle wax..._

"Coveralls." I wave in his general direction. "Coveralls will protect your nice clothes."

"I could take my clothes off, Ana."

"I, I,.." I am fucked if I can work out what to say to that. Fucking would be good. Hard and deep and possessively.

"That will be all today, Ana." My torture is over as we move back up towards the register.

"How is the article?" He enquires, and I frown. "You did interview me last week, Ana, or did I leave such a shallow impression on your mind?" Understatement of the year. His image has been branded onto my brain. It was already there as my Master and now he has a name.

"Oh, I'm not writing it, Kate is. Kate Kavanagh, my roommate." I put the items on the counter, lining up the barcodes so that I can scan them. Focusing on this means I don't on him. "She would love a photograph of you." It's a big fat hairy lie with bells on. Kate said no such thing. "Would you be able to send me, I mean Kate, I mean Miss Kavanagh one? Or, would you allow Jose, the college newspaper photographer to take one?" I start scanning the items, the little beep, beep, beep punctuating the silence.

"Hmm." His face is impassive, despite the pondering sound. He reaches into his wallet and hands me a plain white business card, his name, cell phone number and nothing else. "I am currently resident in the Heathman, Ana. You may call me before 10.00am tomorrow if Miss Kavanagh would like to have some photographs taken. I expect you will be there too." It wasn't a request. Kate would love to get a photograph, as would I, but I would also get to see him again. Three times in two weeks, and I'm doing an inward happy dance.

"That would be lovely Mr Grey, I'll share that with Kate, Miss Kavanagh." The total rings up and he hands me a platinum card from the opened wallet.

* * *

"Annnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaa!" I turn and there comes the boss' brother bounding down the store towards me. He picks me up and swings me in a bear hug.

"Hi Paul, how are you?" I smile, happy to see him. I've known Paul Clayton for four years, and he asks me on a date every time he's home from Princeton, and every time, I turn him down. I like him as a friend, but I've no romantic interest in him. I glance at Master Grey (got to stop calling him that!) and his face is like thunder. He looks like he wants to punch Paul and then eat me alive. When he clears his throat I finally manage to make the introductions.

"This is Paul Clayton, younger brother of Mr Clayton who owns the shop." I point to Paul, Exhibit A. Then, I continue babbling. "Paul is studying Business and Finance at Princeton and is currently doing his Masters in Business Administration, and we have been good friends for four years."

I turn to Exhibit B. "This is Mr Christian Grey. Master Grey is currently visiting the WSU School of Agriculture." Both men are now staring at me, one in bewilderment, the other in mocking delight. How am I going to get out of this one?

"Paul, I was just telling _MR_ Grey that I am majoring in English Literature, and I was thinking of Thomas Hardy's the Mayor of Casterbridge, and then it truncated to Master-Bridge, and then Master... I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about..." Never mind feeding the world, my face could heat the world.

"Ana, you've been studying those fusty old English novels too much!" Paul laughs at me, and for once I'm relieved. "When your exams are over I have got to take you out for a drink, so that you can let your hair down." He gives my ponytail a playful tug.

As I've done for the past four years, I politely demur, but this time it's under Master Grey's flinty gaze. "Paul, we have been through this before! I'm not dating the boss' brother, finals or no finals." Please let Christian read between the lines. His expression mellows a little as Paul gives me a gentle punch to the shoulder.

"Ok Ana, laters."

I put the items into a brown paper sack, and fold it over, stapling it shut. "There you go Mr Grey, I hope you enjoy your purchases." Silently I add my own thoughts, because, Master Grey, know I would.

"Thank you Miss Steele, I shall." Another enigmatic smile. "I hope to hear from you about our proposed appointment tomorrow." He looks over his shoulder, "it will also give us a chance to discuss your - internship."

The door chime gives it familiar "ping" and off he saunters. Can he really be so oblivious to how he makes me feel?

I stare at the clinically clean business card in my hand, take a deep breath and dial Kate's number.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 5

Kate is shrieking down the phone at me. "You got what? Lemme get this straight, YOU, quiet little Ana Steele fanagled Christian Grey's cell phone number.' I roll my eyes.

"Fanangle? Kate, what sort of word is that for an English major?"

"Stop deflecting, Steele, I want details!" What kind of details does she want? That Mr Christian Grey came into the store, that I sold him all manner of every day DIY objects that also can be used for kink, and that I introduced him to the boss' brother as 'Master'.

"He was in the neighbourhood apparently." I don't like lying to Kate, not even over the phone, so I need to cut this short. "So, d'you want these photos or not? Jose could take them." I'd like my buddy to get some of the gravy here too. "If you have a pen there I'll call out the number."

"No way, Steele, this is YOUR party, he knows you, and you can call him." I tut down the phone at Kate. "I still think he likes you, Ana, and you've got to let him know how you feel." When I tut again, she giggles at me, we say our goodbyes, and I press 'end' on my cell. My fingers start to shake as I start to dial his number. I have got to get out of the stockroom. It's distracting me. He is distracting me. Kate's confident statement rings in my mind, like an internet meme. I nip out the back fire escape for a breath of fresh air, and I try again.

"Grey." The voice is clipped, not even an 'hello'. I nearly hang up again, but he will have seen a number on the screen, my number.

"Um, Mr Grey, it's Ana Steele." there is silence and I wonder if I've been cut off.

The voice returns, this time, silky, oozing confidence "Ana, how nice to hear from you again, and so promptly." I blush, despite nobody around to see me.

"Kate, I mean Miss Kavanagh, was very happy to hear about your generous offer, and she would be delighted to accept your gracious offer. She will bring a photographer friend along with her, Mr Jose Rodriguez." I stop and take a breath. "What time would you like them to be there?"

"I expect to see the three of you tomorrow, Ana." The caramel voice is lulling me into a diabetic coma,  
drowning me in its mellow sweetness. I snap out of it. His voice might be caramel, but my mind is peanut brittle.

"Me, why? I'm not involved in the article." I sound a little more abrasive than I meant.

"You should know better than to ask questions like that, Miss Steele. You still haven't accepted my offer for internship at GEH." He doesn't wait for a respsonse from me, but gives a little chuckle. "9.30am, Fairmont. Until then, Ana, goodbye, and perhaps this time you will remember not to call me 'Master' in public" I look at my cellphone screen. Call ended. Just like that. It's going to be a long afternoon, as I am distracted by his last sentence. Why did he revisit my Master mistake?

* * *

I knock nervously on the door. An authoritarian voice cuts through the heavy wood of the door. "Enter" I quietly walk into the room, Master Grey is standing with his back to me. He is wearing a suit, covered by an old-fashioned teacher's gown. I close the door softly behind me and glance nervously around. There is a blackboard, a chair and desk. More ominously there is a sideboard; He is standing in front of it, and whatever items are upon it are covered by a dull black cloth, their shapes muted. He doesn't move. "I hope you are in uniform, Anastasia." I smooth my hands over my uniform; a white cotton shirt and tie, a very short plaid kilt, knee socks and Mary Jane shoes. A ruler whacks down on the wood of the sideboard, making me jump. "Answer me!"

"Yes, Sir, I am dressed as you requested."

He prowls toward me, and I try not to tremble. Using the edge of the ruler he lifts up the hem of my skirt, exposing my modest white cotton panties. I hear his sharp intake of breath. "Very good Anastasia, I see you can follow some instruction."

I blush. "Thank you, Sir."

"Sit." He points to the plain wooden chair; there are no armrests, nor cushions. I obediently walk over and sit down. My skirt is so short that it barely covers my thighs. I rest my hands on my lap.

"Straighten up!" he barks. Forcing my butt into the back of the chair, my spine is rigid against the hard chair back. Slapping the ruler against the palm of his hand, he starts to circle me. "Do you know why you are in this predicament, Anastasia?" I nod, and whimper when the ruler smacks onto my thighs, the white stripe quickly turning red.

"Sir, I believe I know why I am in this predicament." I pause. "I called you Master in front of another person."

"And why did you do that Anastasia?" Why did I do that? I don't know. All I know is that I have embarrassed my Master and I do not want bring shame upon him.

"I, I did not think, Sir. It was careless of me, and I will accept your punishment as you see fit."

From the corner of my eye I watch as he strides to the table, pulling the cloth off the items. I gasp, and it's audible. He turns and smirks at me. It is the items that I sold him today in Claytons. He picks up the masking tape and twirling it in his hands, he drops it on the desk in front of me. "Perhaps you should not be allowed to speak for an hour or two." He taps the roll of tape with his ruler, before placing the ruler flat on the desk. "You will tear off a length of tape, 10 inches in length. Use the ruler as your guide." Nervously I tug at the tape, measuring out the length. I hold it by the edges, or rather the tape holds me, the easy tackiness of adhesive gentle on my fingertips. "Gag yourself." I swallow nervously and place the tape over my own mouth; the length stretches practically from ear to ear. Taking his ruler again, he presses down on the tape, my humiliating silence complete.

He instructs me to walk to the table and pick up the remaining items; the cable ties and rope. I obey, and, just as he did before, I lay them on the desk. Taking the rope, he makes two loops over one another and I put my hands into the Hessian circle. If I wriggle in this bond, the rope actually chafes on itself and tightens.

"Bend over." I do as I'm told, my short skirt now showing my panties in their full glory. He ties the rope to one side of the desk and my body is stretched, my ass in the air. He walks behind me and taps between my thighs with the ruler. "Spread." Bending down, I hear the familiar clickclickclick of a cable tie closing, around the desk leg and my right ankle, then the left, the tiny plastic teeth catching on the latch.

"Anastasia, for your transgression today, you shall receive 10 strokes with the ruler, panties on, and then I shall cut your panties off, and you will receive another twenty. Do you understand?" I mewl and nod.

"Will you bring shame on me in public again?" The ruler drags slowly across my ass, teasing me before the first stroke. I am unquestionably nervous at the upcoming punishment, and I shake my head.

"Good. I hope you learn your lesson, Anastasia." Master whispers in my ear and giving me a gentle kiss to the cheek, I relax a little bit. I do not want to upset Master Grey again.

* * *

I press 'save' on my document, close my laptop, and my 'studying' finished for the evening. I settle on the sofa with my favourite blue patchwork wrapped around me. I turn on Netflix and scroll until I find some English humour. I settle on Little Britain, and have a good belly laugh at the antics on screen. The sense of humour is completely different to that in the US, but there is something comforting about these parodies of British life. Just as Matt Lucas is not the only 'gay in the village', the I cannot be the 'only sub in Seattle'. Dozing on the couch, I can't wait until I get to see the British Isles for myself.

The following morning, Kate is up bright and early. I am not a morning person, and I poke out my tongue at her cheery off key singing when she bounds into my room. If Disney could make Tigger human, it'd be Kavanagh. "Come on Steele, get up!" She slides the coat hangers back and forward along the closet rack, muttering in despair at my wardrobe. She settles on a ¾ sleeve lilac shirt; it's from Old Navy, but it is nice and crisp, casual but comfortable, and goes great with my skinny jeans.

We arrive at the Fairmont and courtesy of Kate's promise of a mention in the article we have been upgraded to a suite. I still have no idea what I'm doing here. I'm a spare wheel, not even capable of being a gofer for Kate and Jose. I stand there, a passive observer, watching Jose fix lights and rig cables, Kate flicking through notes, checking her proposed camera angles.

I palpably feel the temperature drop, and the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Instinctively I stand up straighter. Master Grey walks towards me and gives a knowing smile, "How nice to see you again, Ana." He has a guy with him who looks like he's out of the Secret Service, but without the sharp suit and dark glasses. He's kind of hot in a 'strong silent type' kind of way, but he's no Master Grey.

"I, oh, hello, Mr Grey" whoohoo! I got it right!

He smirks at me again and whispers into my ear "Not 'Master' today?" All I can do is bite my lip and shake my head.

Kate takes me out of my misery, her natural confidence running the show. After maybe twenty minutes of clicking, and snapping, the tenacious Miss Kavanagh seems happy. Nodding a thanks to Kate and extending a cool hand and expression to Jose, he turns to me.

"Ana, you will join me for a cup of coffee?" It was an order couched in a question. I crook my head and look behind him to see Kate over gesticulating a thumbs up and gangnam style dance. I suppress a smile, which faded completely when I saw Jose's sour expression. A pang of guilt was replaced by a flash of anger. I don't owe Jose anything, and he doesn't own me. I know who I want to own me; they already own my imagination, will they ever own my body?

I manage a strained whisper, "Okay." He nods to pseudo secret service, takes my hand, and we walk out of the Fairmont. Master Grey is holding my hand! On the surface, I'm trying to be calm, but inside I'm a jelly mess.

* * *

Not letting go of my hand, he leads me out of the hotel, round the corner and across the road. I don't argue. To feel this amazing man, the man of my dreams, holding hands with inconsequential me, was an exhilarating feeling. We went into a little coffee shop, one of those trendy quirky places, where the tables and chairs are mis-matched, and notice boards were filled with advertisements for local bands and independent plays. Master Grey settled me into a little alcove and went to fetch our order. There was something so incongruous about it; the Christian Grey, CEO, Billionaire, Philanthropist, ruthless business man, placing an order for a muffin, coffee and mug of tea.

Our conversation went better than I expected. He was still smirky, guarded, and determined to get more information out of me than I could wheedle out of him.

"So, Ana, have you considered the benefits of an internship at GEH?" Hah! I haven't thought about much else.

"I'm not really sure yet, Mr Grey." My phone buzzes. "Do you mind if I take this?" without waiting for an answer, I pick it up, and read the sms message from Kate. I smile and put it back down. When I look at Master Grey, his eyes are blazing. For the first time, I feel afraid.

"Are you always so rude in company, Miss Steele?" Never mind Steele being my name, his voice is steele!

I frown in confusion. "I asked if you minded."

"You did not wait for a response." His voice was unwavering. "If you were mine, you would lose your cellphone for a week." What? What does he mean by that? I know what I want it to mean, but…at the minute I'm embarrassed and angry by his reaction. And I'm confused. This is what I want, isn't it?

Nervous, I stand up. This was going well and now there's an elephant in the room that only I can see. "I think I'd better get back to Kate." I leave the café, holding the door for him to come out behind me. I'm not going to wait for him to take my hand again, but suddenly I feel an arm around my waist an a blur of neon yellow nylon whizzing past me.

"You should take more care, Ana." His eyes have softened again. I look up into that handsome face, drinking in all those features. He moves in closer to me. Oh. My. Gods. He's going to kiss me. Next thing I know I'm back on my feet. "I'm not the man you think I am Ana, I'm not a good choice for you." His voice is husky, hurting. We walk in silence to the car park and when we get to my car, he glares at Wanda, but says nothing. I'm used to that. "Goodbye Ana. Please consider the internship at GEH."

"Yeah whatever." I mutter, and silently think, in the words of Little Britain, 'Wanker'

As I look at him walking away, his frame curiously dejected, I make one of the few snap judgements of my life. In an over-breezy voice I yell in a most un-submissive manner, "Hey, Christian! I'll take that internship! Call me after Graduation!"

That should give him something to consider. My unnatural temper tantrum subsides. What have I done?


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for reading. For those of you that don't know, I'm jetlagged, so if you think I'm out of it - I probably am!

* * *

Chapter 6

"I'll see you when I start my internship then, Christian." Seriously? Am I looking to get fired even before I start?

There is an uncomfortable silence, I imagine he's deciding whether to retract his offer. He turns around to me, and says, in the blandest tone imaginable, "Best wishes in your examinations Anastasia. Your GEH contract will be emailed to you shortly." Wanda for some reason deserves an especially menacing glare. "Drive safely. As safely as you can in that, car."

Well, that's great, I wonder how is he planning to email me if he hasn't asked. Unless he's one of those crazy stalkers, a crazy famous billionaire stalker. He probably has an army of techno geeks following his prospective employees. I've heard about companies that check out your facebook page to see if they are 'Their kind of people'

I get into my beloved car, and for the second time in as many weeks, I take 30 minutes to compose myself, although this time my frustration is combined with tears. I can't work out if I'm angry, embarrassed or sad. Probably all three to some extent. This has been the first guy, the first MAN that has made me feel anything and then he gives me some bullshit about not being the right guy. Like I don't know a brush off when I hear it, and it hurt a lot more than I imagine. I can't believe I had the audacity to think that he was interested in me. I thought we had a connection at the interview, then claytons and finally the photoshoot and coffee. At least if the cyclist had run me over, he'd feel some kind of duty to look after me in hospital. If I did have an accident in Wanda what would he do about it? Buy me a new car? Stupid control freak. Not all of us can afford jets or helicopters or personal Amtrak services, like I am sure he employs to keep numptys like me out of his glorious luxurious hair.

I get back to the house and Kate is sitting there in her usual spot of the middle of the room, laptop open, books scattered to the four corners, but she also has several photographs of Christian Grey lying amongst her notes.

"Ana Banana!" I haven't heard that name since we were sophomores and I had knocked back six daiquiris and danced the Macarena in an homage to 90s Europop. "Do you want a picture of lover boy?" I try to snort but it comes out as a sniff. Much more appropriate really. I look at the images, his clinical handsomeness showing up in stark black and white; the vividness of his hair contrasting with his muted, understated designer gear in the colour pictures.

"Humph. I'll take this and this." I pick one of each. It'll remind me of what an utter tease he is. Or rather what an idiot I am.

"Hey Ana, what's wrong?" I fight back the tears. He isn't worth them. But he is, and I can't work out why he has had this effect on me. This isn't just about my stories, this is a connection that I've never felt with anyone.

"Oh, I was a fool to think he'd like some nobody like me." Sitting down cross legged beside Kate, I flick idly through the pictures, laying them out, diptychs and triptychs of visual torture.

"Ana, you are selling yourself short." She gives me a reassuring hug. I'm not so sure. "He was all over you at the photoshoot."

"Yeah well, all he wanted to do at the end of the day was rescue me from an idiot cyclist and wish me the best in my exams." Screw Master Grey. Ironic really. I can't, and he won't.

* * *

Three weeks later, the exams are finally over. I head out with Kate and a the girls from the duplex downstairs. Eva, and Jen are always up for any activity that involves music margaritas and men. The trifecta of an essential night out. Jose says he'll meet us there. I'm kind of looking forward to blowing off some steam after the exams.

The club is hopping, full of soon-to-be graduates, wasted on tequila and beer. I don't drink much. Well, that's not quite true. Who wants to admit that they drink like a freshman when they should have more sense? I have drunk to excess a few times in my life. I'm mostly a quiet drinker though. I could spend all afternoon and evening in a dusty Vancouver bar, getting quietly drunk with some of the earnest guys in my class, We can spend hours discussing the relevance of classical literature heroes and anti-heroes in today' society. Are modern men all like Angel Clare, or do they secretly want to be Alex d'Urberville, ruining the reputations of young ladies. Look at Mr Darcy. There was an alpha male, a dominant bossy man if one ever existed, yet Lizzie Bennett was in love with him. Also, we have all met women as silly as Lydia who fall for the likes of Mr Wickham, despite what everyone tells them. I feel like a silly Lydia trying to attract the supercilious Darcy.

Looking round the club I see the girls out on the floor, having a ball, dancing to some classic Britpop from the 90s. I was born in the wrong decade, I'm sure of it. We have had a pitcher of margaritas, and they are letting off some steam. I want to join them, but I'm not sure if I can dance without falling over my own feet.

I pull out my cellphone, and flick through the numbers. I don't normally wear beer goggles, but this isn't a normal night. My exams are over and next week I'm going to move to Seattle and start being a grown up. I find the number I want, and press 'connect'

"Grey." The voice snaps down the phone.

"Hic. Hic. I called you Master." The silence is deafening as I think he has hung up on me, but then there it is. The voice of my dreams.

"Anastasia. Where are you?"

"Doesn't matter. I am so over you." Well, obviously, I'm not. When a girl calls a guy to drunkenly tell him that she is over him, and is having a great time, all the guy thinks is 'well, if you are having such a great time, why are you thinking of me?'

So why am I thinking of him? I'm thinking of the hard fit body that is underneath those designer clothes, that auburn hair, such a unique and outstanding colour here. Those grey eyes that change with the weather, that can entice me, seduce me, annoy me. Those eyes can see my soul. If he can see into my soul does he see my desire for him? I groan inwardly. If he were blind he's bound to smell my pheromones. Those hands. I want to feel them entwined with mine, to feel them massaging my body, to feel the strength of a firm slap.

"Anastasia. I said, were are you?" My first thought was 'crap', better tell him, but look where my thoughts have got me so far.

"I'm here." I hiccup and giggle.

"Where is 'here' Anastasia?" His voice was uncompromising.

"Uhm not Seattle, anyway." As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again, and I look at it like it's possessed. Talk about a brain malfunction. It didn't even occur to me that he would call me back.

"Anastasia, you are clearly intoxicated." What is it with the full name? I suppose it's a little better than the overly formal 'Miss Steele'.

"Why yesh, Mishter Grey, I am."

"Do not sass me Anastasia. You will remain where you are and I will come and get you."

I hang up again. Gotta go hurl.

Waving to Kate and the others, and pointing to the door, indicating my intention, I weave my way through the crowds, and I feel Jose hold me by my upper arm.

"Easy Ana, I'll get you outside."

I mumble my agreement and I feel the pressure of Jose's hand on my arm.

"Let me go, J, I can walk by myself."

"No, no, I don't want to let you go, Ana, in case you fall." I frown, and turn around to face him.

"Jose, I won't fall. Let me go now." I twist and wriggle my arm and he eases his grip.

When my face hits the cool air of the Vancouver night, two meetings with Christian Grey, four years of study, six margaritas an eight erotic stories follow into a mathematical ten of a vomit-fest.

"Jesus Ana!" Jose jumps back to avoid the back splash. How much did you have to drink?

A familiar voice cuts through the fuzz. "She has had far too much alcohol."

"Grey." Jose sounds pissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Miss Steele called my cellphone, I already was in Vancouver on business and now I am going to take care of her."

I have the grace to be embarrassed. "No, no, I'm fine."

"You are NOT fine." He takes a cotton handkerchief, and wipes my mouth. I mutter my thanks before taking it from him and blowing the remaining chunks out of my nose. Well, that's the end of my love life until I move to another country that doesn't have YouTube. I'm sure some quick thinking patron at the club has recorded my Technicolor yawn for posterity.

"Anastasia, give me your phone."

"Nope."

" . . You clearly are not responsible at the moment." Sheepishly, I hand it over and he starts swiping through the numbers.

I feel the benefits of the fresh air, and I am beginning to sober up. "I gotta find Kate!" I wail. Kate will give me some tea and sympathy, and we will be able to laugh about it by tomorrow morning.

"You are not going back in there." I am aware of the tinny sound of music from the phone, and Kate's voice in stereo, from the phone speaker and from the door of the club.

"Ana, Ana, are you ok?" She is coming out of the club holding the phone to her ear, but calling over to me, waving wildly. She is followed by a drop dead gorgeous guy, all blond hair and ripped muscles. He's new, I have never saw him around campus, and Kate isn't one to skip on the man-candy.

"Miss Kavanagh, I am taking Anastasia to sober up. Elliott, can you see Miss Kavanagh home, please."

"Sure thing bro." Gorgeous blond puts his arm around Kate. Bro? Is this his brother? If the two men in the family are that stunning, his sister must be a goddess.

"He took my phone Kate!" I bleat and pout, hoping that ball-breaker Kavanagh will sort him out.

He holds up the phone. "Yes, I did, and I called your friend, to let her know you were safe." Don't I get a say in this? Kate gives me a hug, not worried by the Ana-sick splattered over my shirt. She whispers theatrically, "see you in the morning banana!"

"Noooo, nooo, I gotta get my stuff."

"Taylor will take care of you 'stuff'', Anastasia." Ah, the buzz cut.

I start to sway, "You, you mess with my head!" I shake my head, as if trying to clear him from my mind. Huge mistake. Tossing my head like that has made me dizzy. The parking lot starts to spin and the last thing I feel is two strong hands catching me before I hit the floor.

* * *

I waken the next morning in a cosy bed. I feel around for my nightstand to check my phone for messages, and Google updates on flight prices to London. My hand flaps wildly in the air. There is no nightstand. I'm not wearing my normal Snoopy nigh tie. My fingers a button-up shirt. My eyes fly open and I realise I'm not in my own bed. I jump up into a sitting position and immediately wish I hadn't. The clog dancers are in my head.

"Good morning, Sleepy Head." He is sitting on the couch, long legs stretched out, and crossed at the ankles. There is some paperwork around him, and his laptop is sitting on the coffee table.

I groan as it all comes flashing back before my eyes and I fall back, supine. I pull a pillow over my face. Fuuuuukkkk.

"Umm…" I flounder as to what I can say to make this any less embarrassing than it already is. "Did we…"

"No, Anastasia. We 'did' not. I like my sexual encounters with women who are consenting and sober, and, enticing as you are, I'm not about to commit a federal crime."

Straightening his papers, he continues, "You will shower, you will dress, and you will apologise for interrupting my evening." Orders number one and two are fine, but interrupting his evening? He is so bossy; this is my fantasy, to have him order me; but am I ready for the reality? I didn't ask him to come for me, will I be weak if I give in to him? Women have fought so long for equality. By admitting he was right, does that kick me out of the independent women club?

He reads my mind.

"You will apologise to me, and you will be respectful. You are a future employee of GEH, and believe me, if you were more than that, your punishment would be a lot more than a quiet private apology."

I drop my eyes and chew my lip. What does he mean? I wonder if he see my need and my confusion and is messing with my head. Coming close to me, a finger lightly grazes over my lip, a voice caresses my fraught nerves. "Do not bite your lip, Anastasia"

I take a deep breath, and feel suitably chastised.

"Mr Grey, thank you very much for bringing me to .. Uh, where are we…?"

"The Heathman Hotel."

I swallow and continue. "Thank you very much for bringing me to the Heathman, I am sorry that I spoiled your evening, and as a future employee of GEH, I do not want to bring you or your company into disrepute. I understand that in life there are rules."

His eyes gleam at 'rules', and the corners of his delectable lips curl in a smirk. "Oh Anastasia, if only you knew."

"Why did you come to me?"

"If you recall, you called me, you were clearly drunk and unable to look after yourself, and the gentleman who was with you wasn't exactly chivalrous with his intentions."

"This is about care, and respect, and protecting.." he stops, searching for a word "… and protecting my … employees from harm." His eyes look pained for a second.

"I shall take you home, after you have had some breakfast. I'm quite sure my brother is still there with your room-mate."

When we arrive back at the duplex, he and Kate were completely loved up, cosy on the couch with croissants and cappuccino, a contrast to myself and Christian.

The first five days at GEH go well. They are uneventful. We have moved up to Seattle into a hip little apartment in Pike Place. Kate is in love with Elliot, kind of cute in its own way. I've never seen her interested in a guy like this. He seems to be really into her too, and together they really do make a model couple.

* * *

My job in in Grey Enterprises Holdings isn't what I thought it would be. Yes, I'm still an untidy brunette in a sea of blondes, but I am responsible for cataloguing the GEH book collection. 'Book Collection' is an understatement. It is piles and boxes of classics, first editions and some exquisite reprints. Barney Welch, the IT boss, informs me that it's a recent move of GEH to move into educational philanthropy as well as agricultural, and that when we are complete, the collection will be open to the public.

In between reading, sorting, labelling, and generally having a great time to myself, I type. I bring my laptop into work with me so that I can continue with my stories during my break times. Master Grey might not want me, but I still want him in my imagination. Christian Grey's actions after my drunken night also gave me some more food for thought. Domination and submission isn't all about rules and punishments. Christian made me feel loved, special and strangely cherished, all the more confusing after I had been severely reprimanded. Perhaps Christian Grey could really be a Master Grey in the real world.

All my memories and experiences go towards building the narrative in my mind before I commit it to my precious laptop.

Barney comes into my little book-den. "Hey Ana, would you mind coming with me a second? I just need your input on a couple of paragraphs in an email." He rubs the back of his neck shyly. "I'm not great with words, but perhaps you can help me make my point clearer." Of course I'm more than happy. Barney's scruffy appearance makes him a kindred spirit to me.

I come back into my office and CG is standing with my laptop under his arm. "Miss Steele. In my office NOW." Again, I'm too embarrassed to make eye contact. Just like Jose the week previously, he grips me by my upper arm, and guides me towards the lift. Jose's hand on me felt threatening and wrong; this hand means business. As we zip up the elevator, I want to open the doors, run and hide, but he doesn't release his grip. I'm going to be fired, I'm sure of it, so why does it feel so hot? We walk past Andrea, he opens the door and extends his hand, showing me in.

"Sit, Miss Steele." He pulls out a chair at his conference desk and I sit down. He opens the laptop, and presses the keyboard, and the screen sparks to life, the black text on the white screen, clear as, well black and white. He sits down in front of me, steeples his fingers, and places his elbows on the table.

"Well, Miss Steele, Care to explain?"

* * *

gimme a review!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello all, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really cannot believe how much interest that this story has generated, and I would like to thank everyone for their reviews and messages. I do try to respond to each one, but if I haven't replied to yours, please accept my apologies.

* * *

"I'm waiting, Miss Steele" I look up and when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. His gaze is dark, smouldering and they are burning me from the inside out.

The past five days flashed through my mind. I hadn't seen Christian Grey since I started, and to be honest, I was really excited to see him again. The last time we had met, I had got completely rat-arsed and I had woken up in his bed - alone. Although Kate is dating his brother, apart from the occasional affirmation from both of them that we'd make a great couple, we don't talk about it.

On Monday, Andrea showed me to my little den, her obvious distaste for the dusty chaos ill-concealed when she brushed against a box of 1920s Charles Dickens reprints, ironically with their dust covers intact. I admit that I stifled a giggle. It's so funny when the perfect people look perfectly ridiculous. After she had left, Barney Walsh, GEH Head of IT security, arrived with a swipe card, a laptop and coffee and doughnuts. I didn't have the heart to tell him I drank tea, but we laughed and chatted. He was a WSU alumnus as well although he graduated five years ago. We couldn't be more dissimilar in our academic endeavours, but on another level, I felt we clicked; first-time buddies reunited.

* * *

I snap back into reality, and try to keep my voice level.

"Mr Grey, this is my own personal laptop. I have not used it during working time. I haven't even plugged it into the outlet, and used GEH electricity." I don't want to sound snippy, but it's not working. If I'm getting fired, I'll go quietly, but not meekly.

"Did you read the contract, Miss Steele?"

The work contract? That 20 page tome of standard employment law shit? I glanced over it sure, but did I really read it? If I had known that I'd be sitting a test on it, perhaps I wouldn't have been quite so cavalier in my attitude. A test I can ace.

I mentally flick through the document in my head, trying to remember salient points, that might be pertinent to this conversation. "Yes, Mr Grey. Any equipment used by GEH employees are business tools and staff members who use them for their own personal use are giving up their right to privacy." I frown, feeling I'm repeating myself. "But I was not using a GEH laptop!"

He pushes a buzzer, and, without waiting for an answer, snaps into the speaker, "Andrea, please bring me in Miss Steele's signed contract."

Crap. What makes me think I can negotiate with The. Christian. Grey? Andrea walks in, and doesn't make eye contact with me, but to be fair, she doesn't appear to be gloating either. Perfectly professional, as always.

He slides the contract across the table. I don't lift it, but he leans forward.

"Page 11, Miss Steele. What about WiFi?"

"I don't use WiFi in work. I didn't…"

He interrupts me. "YOU might not have meant to use WiFi. However, your computer has an open network connection. Any one with a modicum of IT savvy in GEH could have accessed your files." Fuck, I don't know if he's telling the truth, but it sounds plausible. "Please open your contract to page 12." I pick it up and flick to the page. This is torture. If there's one thing I will learn from my five days of working in GEH, I will never ever skim through an employment contract again.

"Page 12, Miss Steele. Read please."

"Any employee choosing to use his or her own personal electronic equipment within GEH must declare their intentions to Security."

"Are you always so careless about reading contracts, Miss Steele?"

Well, there's no answer that isn't going to be a lie. He leans forward, clasps his hands, and presses his fingers to his lips. Those lips. Fuck. Great. I'm getting fired and now I'm getting hot.

"So, Miss Steele, you do realise that this work can now be considered my intellectual property?" My stomach does somersaults. He doesn't want to own this. He cannot read this. My synapses ping to life; relay races through the contents of my stories.

"Read to me, Miss Steele."

I swallow nervously and the words swim in front of my face. I shake my head, and attempt to vocalise my refusal, but nothing comes out.

"Really?" He flicks the back of my laptop with his finger. "You write these words and now cannot SAY them aloud?"

"Please, Mr Grey…" I manage to croak. "Don't make me do this."

"You know that I own this company Miss Steele?" When I don't say a word, he stands up, and walks behind me. "That was not a rhetorical statement, when I ask a question, I expect an answer."

I feel my scalp prickle, and he is so close to me I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. "Do you want to keep your internship here at GEH?" Of course I do. I have been given an amazing opportunity to work in a field related to my degree, and I'm going to learn so much about data management and cataloguing. And I get to see my imaginary Master, although at the minute I hate him. I hate him for being right.

"Yes, Mr Grey, I do."

"Then as your employer, I order you to read your work. I have all the time in the world, and read slowly. You need to savour your words. I am very interested in your writing style."

I take a deep breath, and focus. I can do this. For today, they are just words, not my desires.

_'The following morning I wake up, and fumble for my phone, to check the time. It's not on my nightstand, and suddenly I realise, there isn't a nightstand. I sit up suddenly and immediately realise it was a huge mistake. I am naked save for my collar, and Master Grey is sitting on the couch in front of me...'_

I jump when he interrupts me. "I see Miss Steele. Is this your interpretation of what happened that night?"

I peek up at him. "It is fiction Mr Grey. I was just letting my imagination run away with me."

He circles the table, and I clear my throat, pausing as he stands behind me. I am sure he can see what is on the screen, and it only adds to my blushes.

"Did I give you permission to stop?"

"No."

"No, what?" I shiver as I feel his cool finger trace lightly over my nape.

"No, Mr Grey."

" Well, Miss Steele, continue."

* * *

_Master Grey comes up to me in the bed, and sits down on the edge. 'Anastasia, you got very drunk last night.'_

_'Yes Master.'_

_He holds out a copy of our D/s contract to me, with the offences underlined in green marker. 'The submissive shall not drink to excess, nor put her life or body in danger.'_

__

"Do you think you did were responsible last night, Anastasia?" He plays idly with my collar.

_"Master, I am sorry that I drank to excess, I was only celebrating the end of my exams, and I didn't mean to be so careless."_

_"Is there anything else, Anastasia?" The question is punctuated by a gentle tug on my collar._

_"No Master."_

_"What about that boy Jose? I saw him with his arm on you." I feel more than a little nervous now. Master Grey had given me permission to go out with my friends, but I had not expected him to be observing me. Master knows I am his._

_I frown. His arm on me? I had twisted out of his grasp, but I didn't think that Jose had any intentions to hurt me._

_"Master , I…"_

_Master Grey cuts me off . "Yes, you wriggled out of his grasp, I saw that. However, if you had not been so irresponsible and drunk, he would not have seen fit to touch what is mine."_

_"I have been lenient with you Anastasia. I have tolerated some of your bratty behaviours whist you test my boundaries, but I will not tolerate you putting yourself in danger. People are going to know what is mine."_

_I know now I'm going to be punished for my indiscretions last night. Master goes to the table and returns me a black suede covered box. I go to open it, nervous of its contents. There are two wide silver bangles that match my collar, and two silver anklets._

_"Assume the position, Anastasia." I stand up, legs apart, and my hands linked behind my head. I feel the cool metal against my hyper-sensitised skin, and hear the click of a lock, four times over. He dangles the key in front of me. "If a discreet necklace does not mark you as my property, then perhaps this will." He stands back and appraises his work._

_"Now, Anastasia, kneel. I hear the rattle of a chain and feel it being threaded through the metal rings that now surround my limbs. He moves my hands from behind my head to behind my back, and I feel the chain pulling my wrists and ankles together. I am hogtied. He lifts the green sharpie marker, and with a theatrical flourish, signs his name across my breasts. With surprising gentleness he lifts my body and faces me towards the window. He opens the latch, causing the voile curtains to billow away from the glass, my nudity partially available to anyone who might happen to chance to look up. The tears of shame are now flowing freely, but he brushes them away softly with his thumb._

__

"You will keep this position now for seventeen minutes Anastasia. Do you know why?" I nod. I can work it out in my head.

__

"It was seventeen minutes from I first made the drunken phone call until you came for me, Master."

_"Seventeen minutes Anastasia. You could have been mugged, assaulted, or raped. You are my property and you will be kept safe." He gives me a gentle kiss on the forehead, and I hear him move back to the sofa and to his papers..._

* * *

I start to tremble, my nerves getting the better of me. "Please Mr Grey, please don't make me read any more.

His face eases somewhat, before darkening again. Whatever corporal chastisement I have written about in the past does not compare to the heart pounding excitement I am currently feeling under his stern gaze. I am going to be dismissed from the best internship imaginable, and all I can think about is getting home to savour this moment.

"We shall have dinner this weekend, and you can tell me a little more about your… creative writing exploits then." Dinner? After making me want to curl up and die, he wants dinner?

He slides a brown envelope over the table to me. "This is an NDA. This time, you will read it carefully, you will decide if you understand the content, and you will come to me if you have any questions. If you agree, to the expectations within this contract, I shall meet you outside your building on Friday evening. If you do not, you shall come to work on Monday morning, without your Personal Electronic Equipment and you shall keep your literary endeavours to your laptop at home."

He hands me a black unremarkable-looking memory stick. "This is called a 'safestick' and they are encrypted, as well as being password protected. Unless you want to have your name, and mine, splashed over every seedy tabloid in the city, I suggest you give your work the protection it deserves."

He closes over the laptop and hands it to me. "You may return to your office now, Miss Steele."

I all but run back to the office, and trip over the saddleboard of the door. The NDA skitters from its envelope and, gathering the papers, I put them back into order, and sit there, shaking with anticipation as I read them. I want to say it's a standard Non Disclosure Agreement, but with Christian Grey, nothing is standard. I cannot believe that he let me off the hook - sort of. At least I still have a job. I have embarrassed myself, but perhaps there will be some redemption on Saturday night, when I can prove I'm more than just a uni student, playing in the adult world.

Barney comes in, followed by a cursory knock on the door. "Hey Ana! What are you doing on the floor?" He offers his hand and pulls me up. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" He eyes the brown envelope. "Oh, hey! your first NDA!" He laughs at his pentameter. "I suppose I do have a bit of the poet in me after all!"

I manage a squeak. "You know about these?!" What has Barney been doing with Christian Grey? The mind boggles. I recall the interview, and Christian's reaction to being asked if he was gay.

Barney looks at me as if I've lost the plot. "It's an NDA Ana, and they are common in the business world, but Christian Grey just takes his a little more seriously than most."

My face must have shown my confusion. "You've done this before?"

"For Christian, sure. But he gave me my first job out of college. He wasn't interested in pretty packaging of sharp suits and Italian shoes. He just wanted someone who could do the job."

I laugh at that. "But all the perfect blondes?" He chuckles at my question.

"Yeah, they are all a bit, well, blonde? Blame Andrea for that. When she started, she was so hyper efficient, anyone who came after her wanted to bask in her glory. So, they all come in looking like that. It also adds to the ruthless efficiency of the GEH façade."

"So, he keeps the troglodyes like us down in the basement?"

Barney frowns. "We aren't troglodytes, and you should never sell yourself short Ana. You are much too interesting and genuine a person to allow others to define you by something so superficial as a designer dress. We are the lucky ones, able to get on with our work, lurk in the background, and not be bothered by all the other window-dressing crap that goes on." Barney pauses for a beat. "And you know he is one of us." Us? Closet submissives? Barney is great and all, but for one split second it occurs to me that he could have read my stories.

He looks at me like I'm on glue "What do you think I meant? He's one of us. Us - the 'troglodytes'. He might dress in Boss suits, but his crazy hair gives him away every time." Barney points to his own lively bonce. "Trust me, if Christian Grey thought he could get away with it, he'd be working away in some dark dungeon, putting a sweet little ingenue like you through her paces, teaching her to be a daywalker like him, but under the surface, kablooey!" He fists his hands, then suddenly spreads his fingers, punctuating his expression.

* * *

It's Saturday night, and I pinch Kate's plum dress. It's sexy in that if-you-got-it-you-don't-have-to-flaunt it kind of way. It's to the knee, so I don't have to worry about my stocking tops peeking out, but the deep v in the back whispers of promises.

I look out the window and see Buzz Cut is at the door. The procurer of women for the great NDA-Christian Grey. I give him a small smile, and thank him for coming to collect me. Taciturn Taylor gives the briefest wisp of an acknowledgement. I idly wonder if Christian has a clause in Taylor's NDA requiring monthly botox to make sure he doesn't smile.

"Where are we going, Mr Taylor?" I try and make conversation.

"Just Taylor ma'am. Mr Grey has given me explicit instructions of where to bring you."

"Can I not give you explicit instructions to tell me?" The silence makes me realise that Taylor does not succumb to chit-chat or playful teasing.

"I do not work for you, I work for Mr Grey, and I will fulfil my duties for him to the extent that the law requires."

Oh what fun. I bet he's a hoot and a half to be around. He was probably a normal guy, once upon a time. Actually, no, scrap that. This guy is like my own dad on steroids. Ex military, taciturn, regimented.

We arrive in the underground garage of a downtown building, and Taylor opens the door for me. Silently I'm grateful. I don't exit cars so much as clamber out of them, and trust me, no one's is interested in my money shot. I do a double take when I see the four rings logo on the front of the car. Are you kidding me? Not only does my imaginary Master exist in the form of Christian Grey, he also drives my imaginary car, an Audi. If it turns out that Christian Grey really is a Master in real life, I may just wet myself.

We walk a few paces to the elevator, and Taylor punches in a code. We glide up effortlessly and I watch the number of each floor light up and fade away, until we stop at P. Penthouse. I am about to go into Christian Grey's penthouse, and my mouth goes dry. The door opens, and there he is, the Alleged King of the Troglodytes, wearing a Marc Jacobs suit.

"Thank you Taylor, that will be all." Buzz cut nods and leaves. I call out my thanks as well, and he formally wishes me a good evening.

"How nice to see you again Miss Steele." His voice is husky, rumbling, stirring something within me. I silently curse myself for making so much of an effort. As I'm still Miss Steele, this is obviously not a date.

He offers me a glass of mineral water. I'd have loved a glass of wine, but he's probably thinking that I can't hold my alcohol and doesn't want me ruining his perfect white carpet. That thing would not last five minutes in my apartment, with my messy tendencies.

"Have you signed the NDA, Miss Steele?"

Great. All business. "Yes, Mr Grey, I have." Without being prompted I manage "It was a very thorough document, but I have no questions or clarifications." Basically the NDA meant that I could not talk about anything outside GEH other than my cataloguing work.

He takes the envelope and scans over the contents, checking for my signature and date. "Fine. Mrs Jones has prepared dinner. Now, let me show you my room, and we can play tonight. If we enjoy each other's company, we can consider a contract." Finally he smiles and uses my name. "Anastasia, bearing in mind how you have written about your experiences, I believe that you and I will make a great connection. You are a woman who obviously knows what she likes and expects from her Dominant."

Obviously. Wait. What? "Christian, Mr Grey… I…"

His smile fades a little "What's the matter?"

"Uhm, I've never played before." I lower my voice to a whisper, "I'm a virgin."

He runs his hands through his hair, "A virgin at playing?" He studies me for a second and his face falls. "Fuck. You are a virgin virgin, aren't you?"

"Fuck, Anastasia! I have just told you I'm a Dominant! I almost showed you my playroom!" Now the NDA makes more sense to me, and I whisper an apology. He runs his hands through his hair, giving it a crazed height. "A virgin?! At your age?"

I am appalled at his action. "Yeah, well, Mister Grey," I enunciate each word, "Not all of us have been fucking since we were teenagers!" His face looks like thunder. "My sexual history is none of your business, Anastasia!"

Fuck indeed. Or, rather, I think sardonically, no fuck.

Thanks for reading, y'all


	8. Chapter 8

Hello. Well the Texas sun is messing with my mojo, but I thought I'd give CG a little turn. Like Ana, he's not quite the same Christian as the books, but sure, it's a bit of fun :)

Thanks y'all!

* * *

Chapter 8

What the fuck was that? I am Christian Fucking Grey, Master of My Universe and in the past thirty minutes I've gone from a cold calculating bastard to a hot sweaty mess of hormones, and all thanks to a petite brown haired woman. On the surface she looked so sweet and innocent, but there is a lot more depth to that woman below those amazing blue eyes and pouty mouth.

I was expecting Kate Kavanagh. Princess Kate, the heir in waiting to the Kavanagh Media Empire. She's a determined bloodhound, that one. I'm only doing this so that I can get her off my back. Give the interview now whilst she is still on the WSU student paper, and under the governance of the WSU Arts Faculty, rather than getting free reign in the independent press. I'm a benefactor of the university, and I've never used my donations to curry favour, but I'm not averse to it. One call to the Dean and any salacious story will be quashed.

Instead, the security photo that flashed up on my computer screen is of a brunette. She was enchantingly pretty, the poor lighting and digital image managed to highlight her cheekbones and capture those clear blue eyes. That was not Miss Kavanagh; I had already carried out a basic background check on her. That was easy to do, so much of what I needed to know was already on the web, or on the student chat rooms.

I buzz through to my secretary, "Andrea, care to explain?"

The calm efficient voice comes back through the speaker. "Miss Anastasia Steele, Mr Grey. Miss Kavanagh is indisposed and has sent a replacement interviewer." Of all the fucking high-handed attitudes. This woman has been all but stalking me for the past six months and now she has the audacity to cancel. I am so pissed now, and I will be giving Princess Kate and her cut-throat bastard of a father a piece of my mind later. Later can wait, as my gaze drifts again to the beauty on my screen.

When the door opened, the brunette fell in to my office. Fuck me, was even more gorgeous in the flesh, what little flesh I could see in those lumpy clothes. Unblemished youthful skin, not caked in makeup and her thick wavy hair is pulled back into a ponytail; and it must reach down to near her waist. She can't be more than 5' 3", even in heels.

I managed to catch her before she fell on her hands and knees. Oh fuck, I'd love to see her on her hands and knees, bringing her into my playroom on a leash, having her pose on my dais whilst I smack that ass to a delectable shade of red before pounding balls deep into her hot wet pussy.

"Miss Kavanagh, I presume. Good afternoon." Nothing. Those baby blues gave me an eye-fucking like I have never experienced. Yeah, women are forever giving me the once over, I'm not stupid I know what I look like, but this is something else, this woman can see right into my soul. My soul is dark, but it is constantly searching for light.

This was not the time to start thinking about my past. As a Dominant, one of the cardinal rules is control, not only of a submissive, but of one's own emotions. I cleared my throat and tried again. This time I got an answer, as she managed to explain who she was and why she was here. She was so deliciously petite and beautiful, I intended to enjoy my time with her. Instead of offering her a seat at the conference table, I sank into my leather sofa. I wanted to enjoy the view.

When she asks politely if she can record my answers, I gave her permission. My cock twitched when she called me 'Sir' and I granted 'permission', I was sure I saw a glint in her eye. Fuck me, could she be….? When she dropped her gaze I swear that my dick was ready to burst through my pants.

The questions were unimaginative, standard crap about my philanthropy. Blah blah blah. Perhaps WSU has already clipped Miss Steele's wings. The last thing they need is to lose $20 mil a year.

"Are you gay, Sir?" Well that's one way to kill a hard-on for me. I believe in freedom and choice, but doin' it like a dude doesn't float my boat. I have shared male subs in the past with another Domme but for me, that was about control and dominance, the discipline, sex and bondage was her side of things. Never the twain shall meet and all that, but it worked for us. In my circle, the rules of engagement are a little more lax. No buckled down world for us - unless of course, you play that way.

"No, Miss Steele, I am not." How dare she ask that? If she were mine, I would have her chained and naked for a week in my playroom whilst she learned her lesson.

"Sir, it's um, written here…" her voice trailed off in an apology. "Kate, um, Miss Kavanagh wrote them. I'm her room mate." So that explained it. I was secretly thrilled. Whilst I'd still like to have her naked and chained in my playroom, I would delight in caring for her body after I'd used it. There is nothing as erotic as bathing a submissive, protecing and cherishing your property, knowing that they have given the gift of themselves to you. To control their every move, from what they wear, to what they eat, training them to be the perfect complement to you, and all with their consent. It is a total head rush and I fucking love it. It's been months since I had a sub in my life, and all I can see now is the adorable Miss Steele.

Andrea's knock on the door interrupted my fantasy. I sent her away to reschedule my next appointment, and the soft sigh from Miss Steele has me rock hard again, and worse, not in control of my emotions.

"So Miss Steele, what do you want to do after graduation?" What the fuck did I care? She's supposed to be interviewing me, not the other way around. This was not supposed to be a meeting with a prospective sub, yet the question is out. She explained that she was moving to Seattle and wanted to work in publishing. At least she didn't want to work in print or digital media like her ill-mannered room mate. Fuck, I need to see her again, and I break one of my own rules. But like I said, I'm master of my universe, and my universe, my rules.

I offer her an internship in GEH, and am stunned when she declines. Well, not quite declined, "Mr Grey, I don't think I would fit in here." What the fuck is wrong with MY company? Graduates from around the country apply for the handful of jobs I offer each year. When she waves her hand around the office, I get it. This woman isn't about appearances, fine suits and $300 haircuts. She would look beautiful with her hair cut into some shape, rather than the standard student mop, but without taking away any of her quirkiness. She's just like Barney Welch that way. Welch. Miss Steele could be a much better fit her than she imagines. Hang on a sec, she just called me Mr Grey!

"No 'Sir'?" There's that sexy shade of pink again, as she peeks up in confusion and embarrassment. She cannot be this naive. She has got to be aware of what she is doing to me. "You have called me 'Sir' throughout our appointment, and now I'm Mr Grey." She bites her lip and if I don't get her out of here now, I swear I'm going to rip those clothes from her body and fuck her seven ways to Sunday. Deep breaths, Grey.

"Consider my offer, Miss Steele. You might like it here more than you imagine." Fuck, there's that glint again.

As I helped her into her coat, I manage to brush her nape with my fingers. I don't know about her, but it sure as hell made my skin tingle. We walked to the elevator, and as the doors are sliding shut, she finally gives me a genuine smile. "Goodbye, Sir."

I need to find out more about this woman.

* * *

"Barney, can you come up to see me, please?"

"Of course, Sir, on my way." I like having Barney Welch on my team. He is one of the smartest and strongest men I know, but Barney also knows what he wants and needs out of life. He is the same age as me, but he is Head of Security. If he ever went to the dark side, I'd dread to think what would happen the digital world.

When he comes in, his usual scruffy self, I feel a pang of envy. Barney can take $5000 worth of clothes from Nordstrom and make them look like shit. Not that he'd ever wear expensive gear, appearances just aren't his driver, and in his line of work they don't need to be. I would love to be so casual in work, but it doesn't fit the image. My image is all that I have, my barrier between me and the outside world. I slide Anastasia's security camera picture across the table. Barney turns it right way around, picks it up and hmmms.

"Spit it out, Welch!" I'd use thumbscrews on Barney and he'd not tell me what was going on in that brain of his. Half the time I don't think he does either. He's so fucking smart he truly doesn't know how smart he is.

"Nothing, Sir. What do you want me to do with this?"

"Find out who she is!" Fuck, I need to know.

One hour later, Barney has once again come through for me. I can't help but grin when I read the two sheets of information that he has sourced. Let's just see what Miss Anastasia *Smile* Rose Steele is made of. I think I'll take a trip to Vancouver, and to Claytons.

* * *

Claytons is an independent hardware store in Vancouver. Stores like this always make me hard. I know I can buy anything I want on line, bespoke if I want it (and generally I do), but there is something so old school and charming about the creativity that an old-fashioned place can foster. It's all the more arousing when you think of the vanillas of this world, shuffling up and down the aisles with nothing more going on in their dull imaginations than drywall, architraves and electrical conduits.

Fuck me. I look through the screen door, and there she is at the counter, her face studying the screen. If only she were studying my dick with that same concentration… I compose myself, saunter in and as she hears the little doorbell, she looks up with her professional greeter face which slides off , leaving her slack jawed. Oh yes, sweetness, relax that jaw and deep throat me any time you want.

"Mr Grey?" He voice comes out as a squeak. Idly I imagine flexing my crop in my hand, not only would she address me as 'Sir' but she'd lose that high pitched teenaged voice. I don't know what kind of Dom she had before, but she certainly needs training in embracing her own self-confidence, and harnessing that sensuality of hers. For me, only me. When she regains her composure, I'm going to have some fun throwing her off-balance again.

"Miss Steele, hello again." Whoa, those eyes are giving it away again. I now know my voice has an effect on her.

There's the fake store-assistant smile "Hello, Mr Grey, my name is Ana, how can I help you?" She points to her perky breasts, and I smirk. She's forgotten her name badge, and all she has managed to do it give me an excuse to look at those glorious tits, and check out the curve of her waist. I want to make the moment last, and stare at her, forcing her to look at me. I stroke my chin theatrically, pondering. Making her wait obediently on my words.

"Well, Ana," Fuck, even her name is making me horny, "I'd like some supplies, and perhaps you will help me." I know how to phrase the question and this is not a request. " Firstly I would like some cable ties." Her breath hitches and she bites that fucking glorious lip. Jesus, to feel those teeth lightly dragging over the sensitized head of my cock, those luscious lips turning from pink to red as she works my shaft. If this woman isn't a natural sub, I don't know who is. I make a mental note to see if Elena knows anything about her previous Doms. Nothing turned up in Welch's search, but then the clubs are very discreet. They have to be. Members and businesses alike know that their reputations depend on each other. The clubs need to keep their discretion, and members like me are only too happy to pay for it.

I follow her down the aisle, watching that ass sway. She's wearing chucks now, but she knows how to work it. Some lessons in walking in stilettos is going to be in order for her. I love a woman in heels, and I can't have a sub on my arm who falls over herself. A poor performance from her is a poor reflection on me, and I. Am. Christian. Fucking. Grey.

I let her lead me around the shop, enjoying her blushes as I request masking tape and rope. She tries to keep up a light sales patter, but I know I'm under her skin. She is certainly under mine. I realise she isn't listening to my answers when she asks me questions, and I need to bring her to heel. She manages to get out a few salient points from our conversation. Not enough, but she is suitably chastised. I wonder what she was thinking about. Fuck, I hope it was me. What is the matter with me around this woman? I got laid two nights ago when I played at the club. I definitely need more than a couple of hours with one of Elena's girls.

As I watch her handle and wind up the rope, expertly cutting it on the diagonal with a pocket knife, I see her in my playroom again. This time though she is carefully coiling the rope, caressing the bonds that have just held her down and given her the greatest orgasm of her life. When she placed the hank of filament on the counter, I couldn't resist.

"I never pictured you as a girl scout, Anastasia." I can't help but smirk at her slight frown.

"Group activities aren't my thing, Mr Grey." Excellent. When it comes to a female sub, I do not share. She is for me, and me alone. To dominate, to discipline, to fuck and to care for. It is the perfect expression of joy when a woman gives herself to you, mind and body.

"Oh, and what is your thing, Anastasia?"

"Books." she whispers it, almost apologetically. "The classics. I'm majoring in English Literature." Well, I knew about the degree, but to know that it is also her defining interest could prove useful for me. I have to chat with Roz about this one.

She goes to ring up my items, but the Dom in me cannot let her be in charge. I give her a slight reprimand, and, as expected, she responds immediately, and I request coveralls. I make some crass joke about taking my clothes off, but it's worth it to see that blush. Yes, Ana Steele, I know I have an affect on you, and your dirty little mind. Fuck I have to get out of her soon before I spew my load like a fucking teenager. I need to see her again, but can't just ask her to a club to play. When I enquire about the WSU newspaper article, I have my opportunity. I hand her my card, and tell her to call me if she, I mean Princess Kate, wants a picture. That's going to be irresistible to Her Highness, and it's my way of seeing Ana again.

When we finally get to the register, this preppy looking frat boy practically runs up to her and hugs her. Hugs. My. Ana. Fucking immature unprofessional asshole. If this is her boyfriend, I'm going to have Welch's nuts on a plate. And he'll thank me for it.

"Um, this is Paul Clayton, younger brother of Mr Clayton who owns the shop." I give a curt nod. It's nice to see that Ana has the manners to perform introductions. "Paul is studying Business and Finance at Princeton and is currently doing his Masters in Business Administration, and we have been good friends for four years." Yeah, yeah, like I give a fuck. Good to know it's not her boyfriend though.

Now, how is the sweet little Miss Steele going to capture ME in two sentences? "This is Mr Christian Grey. Master Grey is currently visiting the WSU School of Agriculture."

Fratso is looking at her in complete amusement, but I am horrified. What the fuck is she playing at? Who does she think she is trying to out me? For a second I suspect that she is working undercover for Kavanagh until I see her eyes fall, and she blushes as she tries to stammer over some fusty old literature reference. Ana definitely could use some training, and the more I see her the more I want to be the one to do it.

She puts the items into a brown paper sack. "There you go Sir, I hope you enjoy your purchases."

"Thank you Miss Steele, I shall." I smirk as I think how I want her to be the one enjoying them with me. "I hope to hear from you about our proposed appointment tomorrow." My need to continue to be in charge is overwhelming. "It will also give us a chance to discuss your - internship."

I get out the door and get out my blackberry to call Elena. I need some release.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. As you know, I do my best to reply to reviews, but I can't reply to guest reviews. Anyway, just to clarify a couple of things:

1. My story started on a Wednesday, I made a mistake, as then in my mind it ended up being Thursday. I didn't mean to imply that CG had sex after he met Ana, but he's still a guy, and he's still trying to work out what he's all about. However, Christian is human, and flawed, so whatever way you want to read it, that's fine with me.

2. Please don't bash me about the canon characters acting out-of-character. That's why I have indicated 'slightly OOC' on the description.

3. This is a bit of fun, and whilst it's only got a small following, if you like reading, please continue.

* * *

Chapter 9

I leave Claytons, brown paper sack slung over my shoulder, and I'm as happy as a clam. Taylor is waiting in the car for me. Like Barney, he's been working for me for nearly eight years, and I'd trust him with my life. Taylor doesn't say much, but sees everything. He's not at all like my brother Elliott, polar opposite in fact, but he's there, he's Taylor, and fuck me, if I were a chick, I'd say he's my rock. He has seen more action as an adult than any man should - his tours of duty took him to Afghanistan, Iraq, and I'm pretty sure Pakistan, but he hasn't mentioned it. We are men, and we don't need to know.

I absently play with my blackberry. Will I, won't I? Elena could hook me up with some little brown haired submissive tonight, easily. But unless it's Anastasia Steele I don't want to know. If little Miss Steele is on the scene, Elena would know. But, I don't want her to know my business. Recently she has become more controlling and demanding. I'm not her sub, for fuck's sake, and haven't been since I was 21. After seeing Miss Steele and her submissive ways, I'm quite sure I can pick out my own sex partners.

I dial the number. Elena purrs down the phone and I think I'm going to be sick. I don't want anything to do with this woman any more.

"Christiannnnn darrrrrrling, what can I do for you?" Originally I had thought of asking her if she had someone to play with tonight, preferably graduates from WSU in English Literature, but when I hear her fake, controlling tone, I want to share nothing more with her.

I think on my feet. "Elena, the property taxes for Esclava are due next month." Boring. "Are you paying them or do you expect me to take care of them, again?" Fuck yeah, again. She loaned me 100k and I may as well have handed my balls on a platter to the woman. For so long I thought she was helping me. With Flynn's therapy, I'm slowly seeing the light. It's not an epiphany, but its coming. This choice I just made, not to share Anastasia's details with Elena, is another step out of the tunnel.

As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again. Elliott.

"hey Bro, whatcha up to?" Elliott has an ability to make me forget I'm the CEO of a multi-billion empire, and be a 10-year-old kid again. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes not.

"For fuck's sake, Lelliott, don't you have anyone else to bother?" Or dumb blondes to bang, I think silently to myself.

"Nah bro, not interested at the minute. Maybe by 10pm tonight." I swear I can see him checking his watch. "I have a VIP access to a club up in student land WSU in a few weeks time. D'you want to check your busy schedule? I bet there'd be a nice girl, or boy there waiting for you."

"Fuck off Lelliott." I hang up. Elliott knows with that answer from me, it's a sure a thing as it can be. Also, the freeloading fucker rightly assumes that I will book a suite at the Heathman.

The phone rings again, and, looking at the number I grin like a kid in a candy store. I don't know how Welch did it so fast, but that's Anastasia's cell coming up on this screen. I knew that Kate Kavanagh would not be able to resist this opportunity; I hate getting my photo taken, but it's worth it to see the gorgeous Anastasia Steele.

I make a call to reception and request a suite for tomorrow morning, but I don't want the upgrade linked with me. I want a modicum of privacy, even if I have to share it with her tenacious friend.

* * *

Sunday morning, and it's nice to see that these students are punctual. I watch the interactions. Princess Kate might just get the title of Queen Kate, as she rules the show. Anastasia doesn't say or do very much., but every time she moves, that smarmy asshole photographer is eye fucking her. At least she doesn't seem to notice him.

When I finally manage to make eye contact with her, she actually stands up straight. She had been slouching into the wall, trying to make herself invisible, but fuck me, if that's not the sexiest thing I've seen this weekend, I don't know what is. She has to be feeling something for me too, but I've never done this without Elena. How the fuck am I going to take it forward? I have never done 'normal'.

She manages a breathy "hello Mr Grey."

I can't resist whispering in her ear, "Not 'Master' today?" Fuck. There's that lip biting again, and the hint of a blush. This is going to be a long photo session. I used to hate it when Elena caged my cock, but today I'd be begging for it. The last thing I need is that slimy photographer to get a shot of my junk. I act nonchalant and patient, as Her Royal Media-ness instructs me to turn this way and that. I don't care about the photos any more. I just need to see Anastasia on my own. Finally we finish, and I seize my opportunity before Kate can give her minions more instructions.

"Ana, you will join me for a cup of coffee?" I wanted it to sound like a question; I'm used to giving orders. Like a fucking little teenager, I'm hoping that by using her preferred name it'll win her over. Those baby blues range from shock to seeking approval, and finally to agreement in the space of a second. The longest second of my life. I nod to Taylor, who gives me the faintest smirk. Bastard. He's enjoying my current conflict.

I don't give her time to change her mind. Taking that soft smooth hand in mine, we exit the hotel, but what I really want to do is take her upstairs get balls deep in her. Patience Grey. You can do this. You can get your own sub.

The first place I see is one of those hippy places. I'm going to look incongruous there, but if Anastasia is relaxed, then we might be able to chat, and discuss our future. Twenty minutes of innocent small talk and all she wanted to talk about was my business work. This is not going the way I planned. Have I got her all wrong? Fuck what is the matter with me. I was sure she was a submissive and now I'm wondering if she is just shy. Jesus, Grey, if that's the case, you can't just throw her into the lifestyle. I need to dig further on this one, Anastasia Steele is proving to be quite an enigma to my lust addled brain.

"So, Ana, have you considered the benefits of an internship at GEH?" because, I muse silently, I haven't thought about much else.

"I'm not really sure yet, Mr Grey." Why can't I tell her to call me Christian. Will that break the spell? My hope that I'm right about her?

Her phone buzzes and she gives a cursory nod to me, before picking it up and answering an SMS. What the fuck? If she is going to be a sub, MY sub, she's going to need some training in her behaviour. Any previous Dom would have explained that to her. This is so conflicting. She reacted strongly in Claytons when I bought restraining equipment, and when I teased her about calling me 'Sir' and 'Master', but this should be a fucking basic display of submission.

I am furious, but with myself and her. "Are you always so rude in company, Miss Steele?"

She looks at me, genuinely confused. "I asked if you minded."

This isn't about submission, this should be good manners, but it will be a great way to prove my point. "You did not wait for a response. If you were mine, you would lose your cellphone for a week." What? Fuck, did I just say that out loud? That's exactly what I would do if she were mine, but she isn't. And behaving like that isn't going to encourage her.

My lecture must have affected her more than what I anticipated. As we leave the coffee shop, she doesn't look for traffic and a stupid fucking cyclist nearly hits her. I manage to grab her out of harm's way as the neon prick speeds on. She is looking at me dreamily, like I saved her life. Well, maybe not her life, but certainly a trip to ER.

"You should take more care, Ana." I want to kiss her so badly. I want to crash into her and possess her. But, looking into that sweet innocent face, I can't do it, but I want to. So. Very. Much. Then, the giant pussy that I am, I lose my nerve. "I'm not the man you think I am Ana, I'm not a good choice for you." Why does this hurt so much? I have had subs before, and I've cared for them, been fond of them, but this is different. And I don't know if I'm ready for different.

We walk in silence to her deathtrap of a car. A 1970s Mexican built VW Beetle. I wonder how I can get her a new car, when I remember how I can do that. "Goodbye Ana. Please consider the internship at GEH." If she takes the job, an Audi will be part of the package.

I open the 'car' door for her, and turn to walk away. "Hey, Christian! I'll take that internship! Call me after Graduation!" I don't turn back, I'm torn between scowling and smiling. At least if she takes the internship I can take care of her. But I have to get the last word.

"Drive safely in that 'car'."

* * *

"Roz, get in here." Time to chat to my next in command. Roz has been with me since the start. She is one of the two people here in GEH who would be able to get out of one of my employee contracts; after all, she wrote them. However, she's also one of the handful of people who aren't going to leave my side anytime soon.

She clicks into the room in her fuck me shoes. The irony isn't lost on me. The only person she is interested in fucking is her wife, Gwen. Well, it isn't her wife legally, but she should be. By donating to those causes, I have had half the fucking paparazzi hounding me about being gay. They aren't a bit interested in the GEH donations towards low performing schools, vulnerable children's programmes or food co-operatives, but any tenuous mention of sex and it's a feeding frenzy. People should be allowed to live their lives. It's not the same for me, but I can hide in the metaphorical closet as a Dominant. Not all gay people have that privilege.

"Hey Boss" she eyes me curiously. Roz doesn't miss a thing. "What's up?"

"I'm going to start a library. Quality pieces, first and early editions." My plan will be that they can then be accessed by anyone who needs to see them. That's going to be important in this digital age. There are kids out there that haven't held a book in years, just staring at their e-readers, or computer screens. Not to mention the kids out there that have lazy-ass parents that don't take them to libraries or museums. Of course the cataloguing project will fall straight into the lap of the newest employee, Miss Anastasia Rose Steele. To have her near, to have her safe, will be worth every penny. If I can't be her Dom then at least I can be a good employer.

* * *

Three weeks later, and here we are in Vancouver, at Elliott's request. His dick is twitching, the pervert. Doesn't he realise that he's too old for these women? Yeah. I'm one to talk. I haven't played since I met Anastasia, and it's driving me insane. I can't think of anyone but her. On the plus side, I get to take my aggression out on the smug bastard Bastille. I have floored the asshole five times in the past week alone.

I changed the ring tone for Anastasia's number, love sick puppy that I am, and I jump when I hear it buzz and chime in my pocket. There's a laugh at the other end of the phone. It's silly, girly and tinkly and fuck, it's her, barely audible over the hideous dance music in the background.

"Grey." I snap. What kind of teenage game am I playing here?

"Hic. Hic. I called you Master." The silence is deafening . She is drunk ! How irresponsible is she?

"Anastasia. Where are you?" Elliott looks at me, his curiosity piqued. Nosey bastard.

"Doesn't matter. I am so over you." Over me? What the fuck? We didn't have a relationship, so how can she be over it? She is drunk, emotional and vulnerable and thinking of me. Some stupid WSU jock is going to take advantage of her in that state, and I want her so much to be mine. I would have pleasure punishing that bratty behaviour out of her, and rewarding her for her compliance, revelling in her gift of submission.

"Anastasia. I said, were are you?" I need to find her.

"I'm here, and not Seattle anyway." Hiccups and giggles follow and the cheeky madam hangs up on me! This night will not end as Anastasia Steele expects

"Welch, get me a track on Miss Steele's phone." I punch my brother's shoulder. "Not now Lelliot." At least he'll lay off the 'gay' jibes for a while. I'm tired of him and Mia trying to set me up with 'really really great guys'.

I redial her number and I'm rewarded by a sheepish "Hello."

"Anastasia, you are clearly intoxicated."

"Why yesh, Mishter Grey, I am."

"Do not sass me Anastasia. You will remain where you are and I will come and get you." This time, she had better listen to me. I press end on the call, and just as I do so, Barney's message comes through. I look at the address on the screen. Well, isn't that serendipitous, it's where big dick and I were just heading.

"Lelliot, just don't ask, okay. " He isn't happy about this, but acquiesces. "Do you know what Kavanagh's daughter looks like? "

"Kavanagh's daughter? " His eyes narrow. " That rag merchant? Fucking Seattle Nooz. What the fuck do you have to do with her?"

"That's not what's important now. I'm pretty sure she will be here tonight, go find her for me." We pull into the parking lot and I I run and find Ana, standing on the deck outside the club. She is green and just as I arrive she spews her load and that date rapist Jose jumps back from her. Time for me to take over.

"She has had far too much alcohol."

"Grey." The venom is dripping from his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Miss Steele called my cellphone, I already was in Vancouver on business and now I am going to take care of her." I turn to her, as she mumbles that she is fine.

"You are NOT fine." I take a handkerchief and wipe her sweaty brow, and her mouth. She looks so delicate and fragile. In this state she'd have not been able to escape from any mugger or attacker.

"Anastasia, give me your phone." I need to call Kate or Elliott and let them know she is all right.

"Nope." Grrrrr, if she was mine, she'd be paying for that smart mouth with a smarting ass.

I hold out my palm expectantly, when she finally yields and hands it over. "I gotta find Kate!" I flip through the numbers, find Kate's number and press 'dial' . I'm surprised it doesn't have a tiara beside it as it makes the connection.

And there she comes. At least I will give Princess the respect for trying to find her friend, but I suspect that Elliott has had something to do with it. There he comes behind her, grinning like a fucking cat who has got the cream.

"Miss Kavanagh, I am taking Anastasia to sober up. Elliott, can you see Miss Kavanagh home, please."

"Sure thing bro." Yeah, someone is going to be balls deep in pussy tonight, and it fucking isn't me.

Anastasia starts to bleat about getting her belongings. I make a quick text to Taylor, and assure her that he will pick up her things. She murmurs something about messing with her head, before she starts to sway. For the third time in my life, I catch her from falling, and I want to do so much more with her than this.

Leaving Elliott to explain to Miss Kavanagh, I carry Ana to the car. Elliott will just be fine with Princess. He's a player in town, King of the man whores. I expect to see one of the signs of the Apocalypse when they get together tonight.

* * *

Back at the hotel I have the awkward job of getting her undressed for bed. She is passed out and mumbling in her sleep, but I can't make it out. Something about laptops or flat blocks. Fuck. I don't know. I accused Jose of being a date rapist, but I don't feel much better at the moment. I put all erotic thoughts out of my head, as all I want to do at this stage is know she is safe and doesn't need medical attention. This is what being a good Dom is all about. I can't believe I have got it so wrong. I should not have let Elena make my choices for me for so long. That toxic bitch has got me second guessing myself.

I don't sleep, but instead choose to do a bit of work. Five hours later she starts to stir, and then all but jumps out of bed, showing off those amazing long legs of hers.

"Good morning, Sleepy Head." Her face is a picture as recollection hits her brain.

"Did we…" fuck no! What kind of guys had she been screwing?

"No, Anastasia. We 'did' not. I like my sexual encounters with women who are consenting and sober, and, enticing as you are, I'm not about to commit a federal crime." Yeah, and I like them bound, gagged and begging for more. I am not letting her away with anything else. She is going to be an employee for GEH and she'll start acting like an adult. "You will shower, you will dress, and you will apologise for interrupting my evening."

As she appears to be mulling this over in her head, and I can't give her a flick with a crop, I can do so with my voice.

"You will apologise to me, and you will be respectful. You are a future employee of GEH, and believe me, if you were more than that, your punishment would be a lot more than a quiet private apology."

ARGH! There she goes again, all respectfully submissive with her dropped eyes, and captured lip. "Do not bite your lip, Anastasia" I can barely contain my growl.

She clears her throat. "Mr Grey, thank you very much for bringing me to .. Uh, where are we…?"

"The Heathman Hotel."

"Thank you very much for bringing me to the Heathman, I am sorry that I spoiled your evening, and as a future employee of GEH, I do not want to bring you or your company into disrepute. I understand that in life there are rules." Is she fucking with me or what? Rules? Why is she smirking at rules? I'd love to know what she is thinking, but I have to control myself.

"Oh Anastasia, if only you knew." I don't think there could be a clearer signal.

"Why did you come to me?"

"If you recall, you called me, you were clearly drunk and unable to look after yourself, and the gentleman who was with you wasn't exactly chivalrous with his intentions." Yeah, that fucking woman abusing photographer. I might abuse a sub, but it's always with their consent, and I cherish them afterwards.

"This is about care, and respect, and protecting..." I watch her eyes widen, the innocence is there again. She doesn't get what I am intimating. As a sub, she has had some crappy Doms in the past, "… and protecting my … employees from harm." I want her to be so much more than an employee.

"I shall take you home, after you have had some breakfast. I'm quite sure my brother is still there with your room-mate."

Well, I was right about that. The King and Queen of the Pacific Northwest have obviously fucked all night. The apartment reeks of sex and sweat and I've got to get out of here.

* * *

Four days in to her job, and I haven't had the nerve to go and visit Anastasia. I can't cope with mixed messages or uncertainty in my life, and this current state of play is frying my head and leaving my balls shrivelled up to walnuts.

From what Welch has said, she's enjoying herself in her little hideaway. Barney will keep her right, and I know he won't dare touch her., but he will make an excellent mentor. I feel a pang of envy that he gets to see her every day and I don't, so I finally sack up and go down to the IT floor to see her.

When I arrive, the place is deserted. Her laptop is open, and the white screen shines out to me. She mustn't have been gone too long, wherever she is. I am curious to know what she is up to; it's obviously her personal equipment, but this is my company., and my rules. My employee contracts are watertight. I pay my staff well, and I expect their loyalty and confidentiality in return. I don't care if someone says that they will comply, in my world only a signed legal document will suffice.

I glance at the screen, expecting to see some romantic Jane Austen shit. I never understood the point of those books; three pages talking and saying fuck all. What I do read makes my eyes nearly fall out of my head. This girl has been hiding her identity well. Master Grey? What the fuck? What does she know about me? I'll personally destroy anyone who has broken an NDA and exposed me.

I read on, and realise that this is her interpretation on the drunken night. What does she know, and what does she want? On paper, or rather the screen she seems to know a lot, but her actions are opposite to what is typed here. I hear her footsteps coming down the hall and I slam the laptop shut. Facing her at the door her expression is priceless as she looks to me and then to the laptop. When she bites that delectable lip I think I'm going to cum like a teenager.

Focus Grey. I pull myself up to my full height, and looking down at her I merely clip "My office, now Miss Steele." She follows me like a docile lamb, and I'm going to have some fun. I am going to find out today if she is a submissive or not.

I haven't set any rules as far as a scene goes, but this isn't a scene for me, and I'm quite sure it won't be one for Ana, but I will certainly have fun recreating it, if this is how the delectable Miss Steele operates. I'm in full Dom mode, but not sex Dom, CEO Dominant. This is my company, and the people in the company come first. My secret does not have to be out, and costing them their jobs.

I have read most of this story of hers, but I want to hear that sweet little voice describe all the things that she wants done to her, and that I will be only too happy to act out her fantasies.

My cock is rock hard at her humiliated blushes. Oh, I love being in control, especially with a delectably compliant sub who does what they are told, even when they don't like it. She begs me not to make her read, but I cannot resist.

"So Miss Steele, this is how you recall that night after your exams."

"It's fiction Mr Grey" she all but whispers, looking at the offending screen. She continues reading her story, those pretty little cheeks flushed red. I know what else I'd like to see with a pink hue on them.

Man, she can write some hot stuff! I have never punished or played with a sub in this way, but I would be more than happy to scene like that. It is taking every ounce of self restraint on my part not to drag her hot little ass out of here now.

" Please don't make me read any more, Mr Grey." I want to hear her read and finish the story, but she has been through enough. I believe she might have learned her lesson. Any good Dom knows that it isn't all about punishment.

I hand her a memory stick. This has all the latest encryption software on it. If she wants to type this kind of stuff, I want her to make sure it's secure. Seattle Nooz doesn't need any more reason to come gunning for me.

"Miss Steele, you will meet me for dinner on Saturday night." I have to laugh at my own audacity here. I've just threatened her with dismissal, and it's tomorrow night I want to see her again. ""Then you can tell me a little more about your writing style." Ahhhh fuck. There it is again, that delectable shade of pink. If this isn't a natural submissive, I don't know what is. Now I am sure, and I'm happy with my decision.

* * *

Saturday night comes, and, oh fuck, there she is in a gorgeous dress with a perfect skirt for flipping up over her hips whilst I pound into her. I hate pencil skirts. They might look hot on a sub, but they do not lend themselves to a quick fuck.

I stare her down. "Well Miss Steele, Mrs Jones has made us some dinner. I suggest that we eat, then play, and if it works out we can continue on from there. From your writings, you seem to know what you want and expect from a Dominant." And, oh baby, I can give it to you, and a whole lot more.

She looks at me like she's about to vomit. Oh great Grey, you have made her sick. Always an attractive look in your sub.

"um, Mr Grey, Christian, I um.." Jeeesus spit it out Ana. And there we have it, the three little words, no scenester wants to hear. "I'm a virgin." what? She's not a sub, she's never played? "You have never had a scene?" I look into those sweet blue eyes again and this time I see complete innocence. "Oh fuck. You are a virgin, virgin?"

"Well not all of us have had sex when we were teenagers, Mr Grey." I go to yell at her that my sexual history is none of her concern, when I realise she is talking about teenagers in general, not me and my fucked up life.

Fuck. I can't believe this. I have just told her everything about myself. I take a deep breath and think about what she has written. I have never had a virgin before, could I now?


	10. Chapter 10

Hello all, thanks for reading, and thank you so much, AriadneinNaxos and Wattle. Also, if you are looking for a new fun read, please try Iron and Steele by AgnesDarling :)

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Chapter 10

He's looking at me like I'm some sort of bug that he can't decide whether to poke or stomp upon. I didn't realise that I had to have a giant 'V' imprinted onto my head. 'Come one, come all, come see the twenty one year old virgin. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, say goodbye to the Virgin as she joins the travelling freak show.'

"What do you mean you are a virgin?" He starts to pace the length of his lounge. "But what you had written…fuck Ana, is that what goes on in your HEAD? That's not experience?" He runs his fingers through his thick hair as he spins to face me. "Fuck. I have had you sign an NDA. I thought we had got each other's vibe." He's going to wear a hole in his very expensive hand-tufted Persian rug. I hear him mutter to himself, "Jesus, how did I get it so wrong? Elena will revel in this." He tosses his suit jacket to the floor and I see his tie poking out from his pocket. He must have been out at some business thing before our 'date'. More fool me. I am probably the 'business thing'.

How did he get it wrong. Yeah, you and me both, Grey. I'm too stunned to speak. And who is Elena? Some ex-sub I presume. Either that or she's another identikit Andrea PA.

My stories were always my private fantasies. When I first set eyes on Christian Grey, he was everything my imagination had created. I had never shared my innermost thoughts with anyone before, and to be quite honest I hadn't factored that, one day I might have to share them, into the equation. I had never met a guy I liked, with whom I felt that I made a connection. It was a very different confusing emotion for me, and I had genuinely thought that he had found me attractive too.

It was definitely hot when he found my laptop and read my story aloud, I felt mortified, vulnerable, and curiously sexy and desired. When he asked me, or rather CEO demanded, that I meet him for dinner, I fooled myself into believing he liked me too. Now he's just come out and told me he is a real-life Dominant, I don't know what to do.

He is so matter-of-fact about 'playing', ie, BDSM. I can write about, bondage, spankings, canings and submission and masturbate until my clit can't take any more. That's different. I came here fully expecting to lose my v-card, but I can't just jump into kinky sex with some guy I've barely met, never mind dated. The guy has just announced that he has a playroom and my mind boggles. I have only seen pictures, and I'm curious as to the reality.

He seems to calm down and pulls me down onto the sofa, entwining his fingers with mine. "Anastasia. Stop and think, but don't over think this."

"Mr Grey, I… I am sorry…" Our fingers hold firm, even as I try to pull away.

"No, Anastasia, I am sorry. When I read your most recent, ahem, interpretation of our last meeting, I had believed that it had consolidated my opinion of you, that you were a natural submissive." His eyes give a twinkle, "And for purposes of this conversation, perhaps you should call me Christian."

"I don't know if I am or not … Christian." Am I submissive? Just like in novels, I don't believe for one second that every woman comes the first time she has sex, or that every man has a 10 inch dick, is my imagination just that - a fantasy world that I have created?

Unlocking our fingers, he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him again. "Ana, I believe that you are. It is a complex lifestyle, but very rewarding for consensual participants."

"Why me? How did you see it in me? I thought you… liked me." I jump off the sofa and rub my temples. What a fool I have been.

His voice is firm, cutting through my random thoughts. "Anastasia, sit down, please." It is an order not a request, and I comply. Strangely, I am happy to do so. My mind is running away with me and I need some direction. "Firstly, why you? Why not you? You are a beautiful young woman," he curls a finger under my chin forcing me to raise my face towards him. "Secondly, what I see in you is a naturally submissive woman, who, I will be honest, I believed had been owned by a less-than-adequate Dom." He raised an eyebrow, "Your behaviour with your cell phone and getting drunk was classic behaviour of a young sub testing her Dom. I was so enthralled with you, that I didn't think it was just the careless actions of a technology-dependent college student." He paused, "Which brings me to your last statement. I do like you Anastasia. Since you first fell into my office I have wanted you. I shall skip telling you exactly how I wanted you, in case you run out the door and I never see you again." My stomach does somersaults, my mouth is dry, and my pussy is wet.

"But BDSM relationships are just about sex, aren't they?"

He chuckled, "Some are, yes, but a good Dominant takes his responsibility to his submissive seriously. She might be there to use and abuse, as you have so eloquently written, but she is also there to care for and cherish. Just like in 'vanilla' relationships, some couples make more of a connection than others. I might not have been in love with all my previous submissives, but I was fond of them."

I think I have learned more in the past three minutes than in the past three years.

"Can I ask you something?" I cannot believe I am having this conversation. It seems so, mundane, a dichotomy to how hot my own writings had made me.

"Communication is key. Ask me anything. Within the BDSM community, we might 'play', but it is too trusting and sophisticated a lifestyle to play games, like immature teenagers."

"How many submissives have you had?" There, I said it. The elephant in the room trumpets around my ears. My sexual history has been greeted with a stunned 'fuck', but what about his?

"I have had fifteen submissives, Anastasia."

Holy crap. Fifteen. He has slept with more women than guys I have even hugged. How can I even measure up to that? I know nothing. Nothing.

"Why did you break up with them?" I have to know. I really like this guy, but I can't be number sixteen. I visualise my personnel file, some leather clad Domme dismissively flicking through my records. 'Ah yes, Miss Ana Steele. A dusty 21 year old virgin. Writes smut for her own pleasure, doesn't play well with others.' I absently pick and start to chew on a fingernail.

"Generally we weren't compatible, or we agreed to go our separate ways at the end of the contract." He guides my hand back from my mouth onto my lap. "Don't bite your pretty nails."

"Contracts are real?" I can barely keep the squeak out of my voice. "I'm sorry, Christian, there's just so much I don't know. Fuck. I'm so sorry."

He takes both my hands again, and caresses my wrists. I can't help but wonder what it would really like to be bound and at his mercy.

"Some people use them, Ana. A contract, just like in the business world, details the expectations required of both parties. In addition, a contract signed by consenting adults can give some reassurance, should a sub or a Dom feel embarrassment or remorse for their actions." He continues his gentle circling of my now tingling skin. "For me, personally, a contract is crucial. It is how I operate in my day-to-day life, and I need the security and privacy they can provide." I must have looked horrified, as he seemed to read my mind, "And privacy for my submissive, as well. Her private life should not be public knowledge."

There is, what seems like a long pause as I take in what he has just said.

"You want me to be your submissive, with a contract?"

He sighs heavily. "Originally, I did, but now that I'm aware you know so little about the lifestyle, I have a different suggestion for you." If his suggestion is that I give up my writing and meet some nice guy in the suburbs, I think I will smack him. Dom or no Dom.

"I would like to train you as my submissive, Anastasia. It would give me great pleasure to lead you through this lifestyle. You are a natural but your sensuality and sexuality needs to be harnessed." He splits a grin as wide as Puget Sound. "You and I could be so good together." He presses his forehead to mine, and I inhale the sweet clean scent of his cologne, a contradiction to the dirty thoughts that flood my mind. Was he being figurative, or would he literally harness me, and use my helpless and naked body?

"Yes." I'm barely audible.

"Open your eyes Anastasia." I believe he has just issued the first order, and I obey. My mouth curves up in a gentle smirk. I liked that. "Look at me. We will take this slow, and we will skip the playroom for tonight." He tucks a strand of my crazy hair behind my ear. "I'd like to make your first time special for you. We can make it vanilla, if that's what you would prefer."

Vanilla sex. Standard normal run-of-the-mill sex. Intercourse. Coitus. Perfunctory. Boring. The thought of it leaves me cold, but when I behold the Adonis in front of me again, I soon thaw. "I'd like to try … not-vanilla."

He can barely keep his lips from twitching to a smirk, "You want to be with me, and not-vanilla?"

"Uh huh." I can hardly look at him. "But I don't want to disappoint you."

Linking his hand in mine, "You could never disappoint me, Anastasia."

We stand up, and I follow him towards a door. "Anastasia, before we go in here, I need to know if you have a safe word. You know what that is, don't you?"

"Pemberley." The name of Mr Darcy's estate in Pride and Prejudice.

"That's original, Anastasia, and very, you. I hope that you will not need to use it tonight." His eyes darken, charcoal black. "When we enter here, you will do as I say, you will only speak when you are addressed. You will address me only as 'Sir'. I will not punish you tonight, Anastasia, but you understand that you are agreeing to submit to me, and as such I expect correct behaviour." His other hand is on the door handle. "Do you agree, Anastasia? "

"Yes, Sir, I agree." His overuse of my name is already dominating me, giving me a hyper-awareness of myself, making me really consider who I am.

The door opens into a bedroom. It's as big as my apartment, with amazing floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the Seattle skyline. The walls are painted a soft cream, the floors are cherry wood, as is the shaker-style dresser, bedside table and chair. If money was no option for me, this is exactly what I would have in my own place. The huge bed has a four poster frame, which ignites my imagination, and is very simply made up with four pillows and a cream duvet.

"This would be your room." My own room? I give him a quizzical look, and he clarifies "I do not sleep in the same bed as my submissive."

We are standing in the middle of the room, the huge rug below our feet must have cost more than a semester's tuition. "Are you ready Anastasia?"

I swallow nervously. "Yes, I am." He stares at me, and I correct myself. "Yes, Sir, I am." I'm rewarded with a smile.

He instructs me to kneel on the floor, and the wool rug feels deliciously decadent beneath my knees. He plaits my hair into a single braid, and I feel him wrapping it around his hand.

"Tonight Anastasia Steele, I will make you mine. You will give me the gift of your virginity, which I accept with pride." first forcing my head back, looking at him upside down, hereleases my braid, he orders me to stand.

With one fluid motion, he lifts my dress by the hem and effortlessly pulls it over my head. I am standing in my underwear , black bra, panties and garter belt, holding up my nude stockings. It's a personal choice of mine. I'm so pale, the idea of baring my milk-bottle legs to the world would be a crime, and fake tan makes me look like a barbequed Barbie doll, and I cannot see Sir as Ken. Normally it makes me feel more confident and secure in my dress sense but without a, well, dress, I feel naked. I am naked! Unsure what to do with my hands, I cover my stomach in some kind of bizarre belly modesty.

"Oh, no Anastasia, do not spoil my view." He takes my hands and guides them to the back of my head, and I automatically link them. This makes me feel really vulnerable but has the converse effect of making me stand up straight, bum in, breasts out. He isn't satisfied, as he puts a finger under my chin so that I'm not bowing my head.

"Now, Anastasia, lower your eyes. Yes, excellent, good girl. You will hold that position." He didn't ask me a question, so I don't answer. I am conscious of him circling around me, but I don't move from my submissive gaze. "Nice, very nice." I hear his appreciative murmurs. He runs his hand over my bottom and I flinch. His hand is cool, but not cold, and his touch surprised me. He gives a little tut-tut and chides me about learning to keep still.

Now that his hands have made contact with me, I am expecting his touch and my skin tingles in anticipation. He strokes and smooths his hands over my body, caressing my curves. He is teasing me, testing me, evaluating me as a new piece of property. In effect this is what I am hoping for, and I inwardly plead that I am up to his expectations. With that thought I tremble again, and I feel my own arousal soaking my panties. He unhooks my strapless bra, and teases my nipples, circling them with his thumb before casually flicking them, and it doesn't take much for them to become pebble hard. I am so turned on, and, trying to keep my concentration, I end up biting my lip.

"Don't do that." he growls, and slowly traces his finger across my lip, and I release it from the bite. He moves in so tantalisingly close to me, "Mmmmm, so kissable," his breath is warm on my mouth, but he moves away. Easing my panties down, I step out of them. My arms are aching from the unfamiliar position, but not so much that I want to safe word. This is my first time, and I am enjoying the attention. This time, he drags his finger across my pussy lips. "Mmmmm, so wet. So fuckable."

From my lowered gaze I am stunned when I see him pick up my panties, bunch them to his nose and inhale deeply. "These are very wet, Anastasia. Do I make you wet?"

"Yes, Sir, you do." He pushes the balled panties against my own face.

"Breathe in, Anastasia. Savour the scent of your arousal. This will be for me, and only me."

Finally, he gently takes hold of my wrists, and guides my aching arms down to my sides. I tingle when I feel his lips against the shell of my ear "Good girl. You are doing well."

"I am going to lick you now. Have you ever surrendered your pussy to another man Anastasia?" When I answer that I have not, he gives a soft moan. Pulling the silver tie from his pocket he takes my wrists and ties them in front of me. I look down at my bound arms. I have never been tied before, not even as a kid playing 'cops and robbers'. This feels strange. I am sure I could wriggle out of it, but I don't want to. I am enjoying being under his control. He sits me on the edge of the bed and pushes me back so that my legs are dangling off the end, and, pushing my legs apart, my pussy is exposed. He kneels before me and I am awash in a sea of emotions as he nips, sucks and licks the length of my wet folds. I try to lift my head, but all I can see is his copper coloured head, buried between my legs.

He must have sensed my movements because he stops and looks up at me. "What are you doing, Anastasia?"

"Sir, I.. I was trying to watch. It felt so good and… I wanted to come."

He pushes one finger, then two into my warm core. I am so close to orgasm. "It's a pity I have agreed not to punish you tonight Anastasia. However, I can, and will, stop now, and give you something to think about." He unties my hands, and pushing me right back onto the bed, effortlessly reties them together, then knotting the silky length to the bed frame. I am on the verge of begging him to finish me off. Once again, he lightly draws his finger over my now needy pussy. "Remember your safe word, Anastasia." He opens the door, and leaving it open, goes to another room, and I hear him padding about the apartment. When he comes back he is wearing a pair of worn, washed-out jeans, and nothing else.

His body is something to behold. If he looked good in his designer gear during the day, he is smoking hot tonight. Sitting on the edge of the bed he starts to languidly finger-fuck me, as I whimper in protest or want, I'm really not sure. He starts to lick and nip gently on my neck and breasts. "You may come freely tonight Anastasia." Come freely? Seriously, how does he think I'm going to control something like that? Surely statements like 'hold your orgasm' are for books, to arouse and excite readers like myself. When his lips reach my bellybutton and hips, and lowers further to suck my tender nub, I finally explode in a blinding multicolour sensation. I am fucking seeing stars. I am nearly crying from the release. "Good girl, Anastasia, you did well." He strokes my cheek and plants a gentle kiss on my forehead. I am vaguely aware of him pulling a condom from his jeans pocket, before he drops his jeans. All fuzziness leaves my brain as I can only eyefuck his giant cock. That cannot be real. If two fingers left me feeling full, then that monster is going to rip me in two.

He rolls the condom over his dick, and watching him, I break his rule. "Sir, I… it's so big!"

With a chuckle he pulls on his cock. "Why thank you Anastasia, now, you will be quiet. Just relax. I will take it slow." He positions himself over me, bracing his body on his elbows. Finally, he kisses me, and it's like I've never been kissed before. There is the faint scent of myself on his lips as he claims me for his. Just as he pushes his tongue into my mouth I feel him push into me, claiming my pussy and my mouth with the same thrust. I respond eagerly to both, and when I feel him breach my v-gate I can't help but give a small cry. "Anastasia, you are so fucking tight, so fucking beautiful, and . Mine." He starts to thrust deeper and harder, and I feel the urgency of his own orgasm building, along with mine, again. It is a completely different sensation to the build I have with masturbation and with a moan and a yell, we come together. He lays on top of me for a second, holding me before releasing my hands and kissing my wrists, the pattern of the tie left behind on them, a temporary tattoo memory of our evening. I go to hug him but he flinches away, and eases off me.

"Oh, no, Anastasia, the submissive does not get to touch her Dom without permission." He pulls the condom off, and knots it before going to the bathroom to dispose of it. I hear water running and his hand agitating, as if making bubbles in a bath. I can't help but laugh and giggle in my post orgasmic haze. This was nothing like the books I've read. This was way better. He comes back in withna basin of water, and sits on the edge of the bed and undoes my plait, spreading my hair over the pillow, stroking it as he does so. My eyes are heavy, and I feel so tired. I feel him take a washcloth and clean my face, body and pussy … mmm, that feels so good.

Tonight, Master Grey, Sir, has made me his. I regret nothing, and I fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all, thanks everyone, especially AriadneinNaxos, sillie J and Wattle.

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Chapter 11

I wake up to the sound of the rain beating on the glass. With a sharp gust of wind, the drops splatter violently on the pane, before returning again to the rhythmic dull smack. I pull the pillow over my head trying to drown out the noisy weather with a groan and a loud 'fuck'. Summertime in Seattle. Idly I wonder what it would be like to relocate to Texas. The big blue skies and burned brown soil of the Lone Star State are starting to sound appealing. Coming around from my sleep, I recall that I have a job in Seattle, where the sun rarely shines and the clouds are fifty shades of grey. Grey. Christian Grey. This pristine creamy coloured pillow isn't mine, and I peek out from under it to see the silver silk tie coiled neatly on the bedside table. Raising up onto my elbows, my sleepy eyes finally focus on the god in the corner.

There he is, in the armchair. His right leg is bent at an angle, ankle resting on his left knee, providing a makeshift workstation for his laptop. The light tapping of the keyboard provides relief to the slapping of the rain. He pauses and looks over. "Good morning, Anastasia." He's dressed in a white t-shirt, indigo jeans and looking at those bare feet with toes casually wiggling, I think I might be adding foot worship to my list of kinks.

I wriggle up in to a sitting position, pulling the comforter up to give me some modesty. Any semblance of modesty I felt flies out the rainy window and does a belly flop in the puddle-filled street below, when I see the small red-brown spots on the bed. O-kay, so I didn't bleed like a virgin from a Regency novel, but there it is anyway, in all its glory.

"Hi." Well, I don't have any frame of reference here. What do you say to the man who took your virginity the night before, during a light BDSM session involving domination and bondage? Last night was amazing for me. Given how content I feel this morning, I am so glad that I didn't casually fuck some guy in college to rid myself of my v-status. Yes, he seemed angry at first, but we communicated. He accepted the gift I offered. We did something I can never do again. I felt nervous but safe, comfortable but on edge, used but cherished. Even without the domination, we shared something that was beautiful and tender. Kate has spoken often of the disappointment of her first time, the drunken fingering and fuck of her prom night. After one too many mojitos in our junior year, Jose also finally confessed his embarrassment at his first time, although he said that ten seconds from penetration to orgasm barely counts as an event.

When he doesn't respond to my 'Hi' I wonder if he is disappointed in me. My heart sinks at the thought that he might not want to see me now again, that I was not a good submissive. I know I have signed an NDA about life in GEH, which naturally extends to our activities last night. I wouldn't be sharing the details with the world, NDA or not. It flies through my head for a second that he could tell everyone about me. But why would he? I trusted him to dominate me in a scene (was it a scene? Can I ask him that?). I trusted him to lead and guide me, and give me two amazing orgasms that were not courtesy of my own nimble fingers. He trusted me not to freak out and cry abuse. I finally hear his voice, clearing the fog of my anxious thoughts.

"Anastasia, I said, it's 'Hi Mr Grey'." There is the trace of amusement.

I can't help but grin. There he is again, Mr Dom. "Hi, Mr Grey."

My stomach rumbles loudly and I hope that he didn't hear that. He closes the laptop over and sits on the bed beside me. He smirks at my answer. "Good girl." and he pats my head. Giggling, I catch his eye. I should feel annoyed by him patting my head, but rather I enjoy the enjoy the small gesture.

"Am I?"

"Oh, yes, a very good girl."

He circles the dried marks on the very expensive linen, and rather than being repulsed, looks like the cat that got the cream. "I shall take that to the washer so that Mrs Jones doesn't have to take care of it." At my confusion he continues, "Remember, my housekeeper who made a lovely dinner that we didn't get to enjoy." I'd bet money that he has no idea what a washer looks like, but I don't really want to start a discussion on blood stains.

He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. "Thank you Anastasia. You gave me an truly unique not-quite-vanilla experience last night."

Well what can I say? "Um, I really enjoyed it too, and I'm sorry I fell asleep…" I felt so special last night, as he washed me, lulling me into a relaxed, blissful sleep.

He places a finger on my lip. "No, you will not apologise." He stands up, and goes into the bathroom, returning with a fluffy white robe. He holds the open dressing gown. "Stand up." As I slip my arms into the luxurious pile, I can't help but sigh when the soft fabric skims over my skin. This is a million miles away from my now-threadbare one at home, more pulls, snags and bald patches than robe.

I go to tie the sash, but I hear a soft tut-tut from behind me, before he turns me around by my shoulders. He takes the tie, and with a smirk, knots it firmly. "There. Mine."

I go to walk to the shower, but he is still holding the towelling belt, stopping me from taking more than one step. "Um, Christi…, I mean, Mr Grey. I need a shower."

"You MAY have a shower, after breakfast." Leading me from the bedroom by my dressing gown tether, "I like the idea of you being naked and me fully dressed. Unfortunately, in the meantime, until the contract is signed, nearly naked will have to do."

A contract! Well, okay, there was the GEH employment contract and the NDA contract. " Is that what were you working on, Mr Grey?" His lips twitch in acknowledgement. "Can I see it?"

"No, Anastasia, you MAY not, yet." I roll my eyes as his correction of my English.

"Why not?" I'm curious.

"Anastasia, we might not have signed a contract yet, but I still expect you to be respectful." I feel suitably chastised by the change in tone. I want him to be happy with me.

"Sorry, Mr Grey." He gives me a light swat on my behind; I barely feel it through the thick robe but I understand the sentiment behind it.

Out in the kitchen, there is a blonde-haired woman lifting some bread rolls from the oven. The smell is heavenly. Christian directs me to a stool and I hop up. Breakfast. This must be Mrs Jones, and she has laid out some cold meats and cheese, yoghurt and fruit, followed now by the cinnamon rolls and warm croissants from the oven. The table is laid out perfectly, a reflection of the pride in her own appearance; blonde hair in a chignon, modestly dressed in a knee length skirt and blouse, although at the minute it's covered by a plain chef's apron. She must be six inches taller than me, but carries her height with grace. I am in awe, and wonder what Christian Grey sees in a homunculus like me.

"I didn't know what you wanted, but I am sure you will find something here." Christian pours some tea from the Denby pot in the centre of the table. The liquid is a pale amber; he remembered I like my tea weak, bag out.

"Oh yes, Mr Grey, this looks amazing." My mouth is watering, and I think I want a bit of everything.

"Thank you Mrs Jones." Christian addresses the blonde woman who beams at him with a motherly smile, but she can't be more than five years older than he is. He makes the introductions between us, and we shake hands. I can't help but wonder if she has laid out breakfast like this for many women, especially given how discreetly she left.

My stomach grumbles and I realise how hungry I am. He cuts a croissant open and I fill it with cheese and ham. It tastes heavenly. "Good. I like to see people eat." I want to answer him, but my mouth is full of warm buttery croissant, salted ham and melty cheese. I could eat this every day.

"Anastasia, you asked earlier about the contract. As I have already explained, not everyone uses a contract, but I prefer them. When I have finished drafting it, I shall give you a copy. I advise you to go through it thoroughly in your own time. And then we can negotiate the finer points."

"So I get to negotiate?" I smirk, but it is soon wiped off my face with a steely glare.

"I am a Dominant, Anastasia. Not an abusive asshole. Of course it has to be negotiated. These relationships, may not always have the traits of a traditional one, but nonetheless, they are consensual."

The mantra - Safe, Sane and Consensual. I chose to submit to him last night, and I enjoyed it. He chose to dominate me and, well, judging by the size of that erection of his, he enjoyed it too.

"When we are finished eating, we shall visit my playroom. There are items in there that will be listed on the contract. From your reading and previous research, you may be familiar with them." He bounced his eyebrows. "Feel free to ask any questions, as consent and safety is paramount." His tone is clipped and business like, but it softens as he brushes a crumb from my lip, and offers it to me on his finger. I lick up the delicious flake of pastry. "Relax, Anastasia. This will be good. I am honoured to be your guide."

* * *

We go up a flight of stairs to a small landing and a single door. He turns the key in the lock and, his hand to the small of my back, I enter just ahead of him. As I try to adjust my eyes to the light, he says, "Anastasia, this is my playroom, and I hope it will be our playroom. For today I would like you to touch anything you please and I encourage you to ask questions. As I have said, you may have seen or read about some of these items, but reading, and feeling are two very different things."

Honestly, I am overwhelmed. Yes, I'd read about playrooms, but I didn't think anyone really had them, except maybe the super rich. D'oh. He is super rich. It is painted in a deep red colour, with dark brown flooring. There is a dark-wood four poster bed, but this one has the traditional heavy brocade curtains, currently held back with matching red swags. The other few items of furniture also seem to be in mahogany, and I am a bit disapproving of this. There's being super rich, and there's being respectful of the environment.

"Is this South American hardwood, Christi… I mean Mr Grey?"

"Indonesian actually. The bed is made from timbers reclaimed from a country church in France." Looking at it closer, I see the joins between the wood grain. I know nothing about carpentry, but these pieces look amazing. "Would you rather that the wood was just thrown out to rot, or that it was re-used? I'm sure the latter meets with any green credentials that you may have.

Over at the chest of drawers, I open up the first and a pick up a crop. It's made of black plaited leather, with a wrist loop at one end and a sort-of triangular flap at the other. It gives a satisfying whoosh when I cut through the air, although I jump when it smacks off the open drawer.

The next thing I pick up is a thing that looks like a very short fat belt. "That's a tawse." I hear Christian behind me. It looks a little bit intimidating, as I visualise the supple leather landing down on my ass.

In the second drawer there are a variety of whips and flogs, some of them look almost like they would tickle, others would not.

"Do you use all these?" I'm trying to be serious and mature, but instead I'm a bizarre mix of terrified and horny. The idea of all these implements is erotic, the actual use of these may not be.

"Yes, Anastasia, I have used them all in the past." He picks up the flogger and runs his fingers through the strands. "Sometimes it is for pleasure and pain, sometimes for punishment and pain." He holds out my hand and drags the fronds lightly across it and I shiver.

"Are you going to punish me?"

"Yes, when you deserve it." When I deserve it. I better make sure I research this contract well.

"And pleasure?" I can't imagine pain being pleasure. I know in my stories I have written of spankings and punishments but in my stories, there is no real pain. Just like no toilet breaks or cramps or tangled hair.

"Yes, for pleasure too, but as I have said, it will be part of your training."

In the third drawer there are a variety of leather and metal cuffs. Some are joined by a small chain, others are individual, with an embedded loop, presumably for attaching to another object. I pick up a slightly bigger leather cuff, but it's not a cuff, it's a collar. I hold it to my neck, and inhale the deep leather scent.

"Do you like that piece, Anastasia?"

"Yes, very much." I blush when he chuckles.

"Well, that collar is for play, so perhaps if you are a good girl, you will be rewarded." And with that I feel my own juices saturating the tops of my thighs. I can barely concentrate on the rest of the tour.

* * *

The shower was heaven, the water pressure set to rainfall, quite ironic really when I despaired at the weather that woke me up earlier. I start humming to myself. I have absolutely no voice for singing, but it never annoyed Kate and Jose, and we'd often play our own twisted version of American Idol, with marks for flat notes, clichéd songs and back stories, complete with sniffles, tears and snot. _'This one is dedicated to my grandma's little dog - he missed breakfast on Monday and, and, I don't think he's gonna make it'_. I recall one weekend where we had to issue a ban on 'Jesus take the wheel', so that's what I go for today. My minor country rebellion.

I wipe the soap out of my eyes and through the veiny glass see Christian sitting on the toilet seat, curling an index finger around his chin.

"Sploooorrry!" I splutter, turning the shower off. "I didn't realise I had an audience." It's one thing giving your virginity to a sex god Dominant, but tone-deaf shower singing is altogether more personal. He opens the door of the cubicle and swathes me in a giant bath sheet.

"It's quite all right, Anastasia." He starts to pat me dry, caressing me with the soft towel. I stand obediently still, enjoying his care. If this is part of life as a sub, I could get used to this. I feel like a doll, a prized possession. "Your singing is truly - unique, but exuberant." He pauses for a beat. "I'm glad that you have not run out the door." I shake my head. I'm intrigued and excited as to where this is going to lead me.

* * *

When I'm dressed and it's time to go home, we descend into the garage via the private elevator. It seems faintly ridiculous, but then I'm not in his position, and I'm not a public person who needs privacy. Taylor is already behind the wheel, engine idling. I go to put on my seatbelt, but Christian pulls it across my lap instead, grinning with the 'click'. I'm wondering if he is thinking the same thing as I am - the 'click' of a lock?

The roads are fairly quiet on the short journey back to my apartment. I never minded Sundays. I wasn't part of the church-going crowd, and as Claytons was closed on that day, Kate and I used the time to catch up on housework, study and WSU gossip. That was when we were students. Things are changing now. She is loved-up with Elliot Grey, Christian's older brother, and I am… I'm not sure what I am. I decide that I am finding myself, and what better way than with a gorgeous Dom like Christian Grey.

When we pull up outside the condo, Christian glares out the window. I follow his gaze to my beloved beetle, Wanda. "Anastasia, why are you still driving that death-trap? You were given a car with your new contract at GEH" Was I? A car? What kind of contract supplies cars for interns? He flicks out his blackberry and starts stabbing the keypad with the stylus. "Anastasia, I believed that we have already discussed the importance of reading contracts." Oh, yes, I remember that lecture. If I recall correctly it involved me having to read out one of my sexual fantasises to him, and being presented with a further NDA. He continues in his CEO clipped tone, the timbre brooking no insolence, "Why did you not open the email from Ros?" I glance toward Taylor in the front, hoping to catch a sympathetic eye in the rear-view mirror, but he is staring straight out the window. Of course. He has probably heard all this before, and I do my best not to feel like I am just another number.

"Um..I'm sorry Mr Grey." I want to smack myself on the forehead. Of course this control-freak CEO can see my emails. "I didn't know I had to open it within a time frame. With the excitement of the new job, I kind of got distracted."

"You got distracted?" He sighs theatrically and starts tapping again. "Well, Anastasia, it looks like our contract is going to require some additional items. Your inability to keep a reasonable level concentration will have to be revisited."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" Now that I've seen the array of spanking implements at his disposal, I'm not sure I could handle the pain.

He drops the blackberry into his lap, cupping my face in his hands. "Not until we have a signed agreement Anastasia, but I do have expectations from you, and yes, you will be punished when you make an infraction." Our eyes meet and I'm lost again. "I want to train you to be the best that you can be, but the punishment will fit the crime."

When we get into the apartment there is a note from Kate on the fridge, held in place by a hideous Kate'n'El magnet. Their faces are enshrined in a sparkly pink heart. I don't even want to think where she went to find such a, - quirky - piece. Christian reads out the message.

_'Gone to Bellevue, BanAna!_

_Sunday lunch with the parents *squeeeeall*_

_Hope you had a great night with CG_

_Laters'_

He rubs the point between his eyebrows. "*squeeeall*? I think that woman might give me a tension headache."

"Yeah, well that woman would give me a headache too." I point to the gaudy fridge magnet. "What has your brother done to my best friend?" Kate doesn't do lunch with a boyfriend's parents. Actually, Kate doesn't do boyfriends. Mr and Mrs Grey can expect a grilling from Kate Kavanagh, and in some ways that would actually be funny to see.

"Believe me Anastasia, whilst Elliot is a nosey bastard about my private life, I want to know nothing about his."

He looks around our small but airy Pike District apartment. "Anastasia, I would like to see your room." It's asked as a question, but there is nothing about it that will permit a refusal without good reason.

My living space is so different to his, but I'm not ashamed of it. He steps into my small room, with its voile curtains, iron-framed bed and traditional school desk. He doesn't know how these everyday items have featured in my fantasies. The bright space is a million miles from the playroom. He runs his fingers along the white painted bars of my bedstead, and gives me a knowing grin. I give him a quick smile back. If only he knew what stories I have written, perched there atop my favourite blue patchwork quilt.

Speaking of stories, he picks up my laptop from the bedside table. "Have you taken my instruction about the safe stick, Anastasia?" Oh yes, the safe stick, the memory storage that ensures encryption of my work. I learned my lesson that day, on the importance of security. I confirm that I have.

"Good, girl, Anastasia. Perhaps some time I will have you read some more."

Fuck, I'm wet again. That silky voice makes me want to rip my clothes off and kneel at his feet. "Is that an order, Mr Grey?"

"It will be, Anastasia."

He turns to head out the door. "Well, now that I have got you safely home, I will be on my way." Rat fart. He's leaving.

"Don't I get a good bye kiss, Mr Grey?" I bite down on my lip, and look up from beneath my eyelashes. I'm not sure if I look deranged. I'm aiming for cute.

"Fuck the paperwork." He prowls over to me, and I take a step backward, and fall onto the bed. In one move he takes both my wrists above my head with one hand, and drags his thumb across my lip with the other.

"Do not bite that lip, Anastasia." he pauses for a moment before giving me a long owning, penetrating, possessive kiss. He nips my lip with his own teeth. "Mine." he growls.

"Yes, yours."


	12. Chapter 12

Hello all, thanks for reading, and I can't resist, thanks to the guest who isn't reading any more because Ana is a wimp. That's fine, my characters are adult and consenting. If I haven't responded to your review, I will do my best to do so, right before I continue with Storms of Greysteinn, my self-indulgent history lesson:)

Thanks to the facebook crowd for their encouragement, including and not limited to: Smile Rose, Ordlas, PrincessRolon, PerhapsPerhapsPerhaps, DreamsoFValhalla, wattle, Lilithblood, AriadneinNaxos, luvdisney, gwen cb, sasha c and onefitgilly. V-x-y-zz and sillie j, thanks :)

* * *

Chapter 12

"Taylor, GEH please." I need to chat to Roz and clear my head. I dial, and the phone rings for ages before a woman finally answers.

"Good Morning Christian." Gwen. I check my watch, and it's only 10.47. I feel as if I've been up for ever.

"Gwendolyn Bronwyn Wigley, Good morning. May I speak to your darling wife please?" There is a faint giggle, and scuffle.

"No, Christian, you may not. Roz is a little tied up at the minute." Of course she is. That pair fuck like rabbits and are still practically on their honeymoon.

"Well, Gwen, when Roz is 'free', can you ask her to meet me at GEH." I can't resist a playful dig at another Dominant, "And you can even come to watch if you like." I'm answered with a snort. Gwen, like me, does not share. I go to call Andrea, but then realise that as it's a quiet Sunday morning in Seattle, the whole fucking world is fucking, apart from me. And Taylor. Sometimes I swear that bastard can read my mind, but I couldn't function without him. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and above all respect those that guard you with their lives. My circle is small, and there may be a new addition.

It's not going to take long to get to GEH and I think how she is under my skin. I have scened in clubs a few times, and have had 15 submissives since I was 21. The shortest relationship was two weeks, the longest one lasted just over a year. They weren't traditional relationships but that was partly because of the nature of the lifestyle and partly because I didn't want to be front page of Seattle Nooz, nor did my sub. Our private lives were private. Any dates we had were very quiet, intimate affairs, and I'm lucky that money could buy me that.

After dominating her, taking her and washing her, seeing her drift off to sleep, I must have sat and stared at the bed for hours. I thought the night was going to be a fucking disaster when she confessed that she had never been in a scene, or a relationship. I have never had a virgin before, and I thought the idea was over-rated to be honest, who'd want to spend precious play time with some woman who didn't know what she was doing. I stand corrected though. It was fucking amazing. To know that I was her first is a mind blowing head rush. It was nowhere near as intense or complex as other first scenes, but the emotional connection was nothing like I'd ever felt before, even with… No. I'm not going there today.

Those few hours together this morning were great. A little taste of things to come. She is certainly receptive to commands and instruction, and as I haven't got laid since I met Miss Steele, it took all my self restraint not to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. I like seeing a woman with an appetite too. And when we work on keeping her still, I'm going to eat my dinner off that hot little body, before I enjoy that sweet dessert that is her pussy.

Taylor drops me off at my private elevator. There's no paparazzi about. Elliot must be keeping his current girl-toy under wraps. Kate Kavanagh. Maybe Princess Kate has more savvy than I previously assumed. She'd not want to be on the front of Daddy's own 'Seattle Nooz' flagship rag any more than I would. When I saw that cutesy little fridge-magnet heart with their photos, I thought I was going to vomit my breakfast. I think he must have lost his mind. He obviously has, if he's inviting her out to meet Mom and Dad. I hope he has more sense in his brain than his balls, as I don't want to hear from Mom or Mia in the next hour, demanding to know why I haven't brought Ana out to meet them.

I fire up my computer, and three passwords later, I'm in the folders I need. Number 16. Steele, Anastasia Rose. No, fuck that. Anastasia Rose Steele. Now her name will come first.

A D/s relationship is going to be an intense experience for both of us, and I key out some of the contract points I've been mulling over.

Bondage. Judging by her curiosity over the cuffs and collar, I think that aspect will move along nicely. To have her leashed and kneeling at my feet whilst she sucks me dry might be her first reward. I'm not giving her any influence over my orgasms until she has earned it, but she's going to have to be a perfect sub before that happens. It will be interesting to see how she reacts to her first time restrained, and I make a mental note to buy some Japanese kinbaku rope. Placed in front of a mirror she will see what a pretty package she can be, all tied up and surrendered to me.

Discipline. She seems scared of impact punishment, despite the content of that story of hers I read. I am curious to read some more, but all in good time. They did try to discuss discipline in that hairy-armpit 70s classic, 'The Joy of Sex'. Vanillas might be excited by talking about it, but the reality is very different. That's fine though. We can take it slow. That quick swat on her ass might not have hurt, but she certainly quickened her pace. I'm not only going to be her Dom, but I'm going to be her mentor. She will only become more disciplined with time. Whether that's with the collar or the cane, I'm not sure yet.

Domination and Submission. These two are going to go hand in hand. She wants to be dominated, and as a natural sub, needs to be dominated, but she is still fighting her true nature a little bit. In the vanilla world the common conception is that submissive equals doormat, and it couldn't be further from the truth. For a woman to submit takes great strength of character. To hand over that trust and for a Dom to accept it; it's a gift that cannot be bought, and a gift that can be withdrawn. I went easy on her last night. What would be the point in dominating her to the point of fear, if she has never experienced that. I might have enjoyed it, but she wouldn't have, and I'd never see her again. Before you can dominate another, you have to be in control of yourself, and your own sexual needs do not always come first.

Sadism and Masochism. Judging by Ana's reaction to the tools for corporal punishment, I should be able to rule out masochism. We will work up to impact play, but I'm never ending a contract like I had to with Susannah. Any woman that wants to be whipped until she bleeds does not have a place in my life. Within the BDSM lifestyle, I'd not be called a sadist. Do I like the sight of a well-reddened ass? Absolutely. Am I happy when a sub has learned her lesson and doesn't repeat the behaviour? Fuck yes. Do I want to put a woman through unnecessary pain just so I can get my own rocks off? No. I have been there, and have the scars to prove it.

I look at the burn mark in the crook of my arm. I haven't heard from Elena in three weeks. She's been in the Far East with that prick of a husband. I should set Miss Kavanagh on the trail of Lincoln Lumber. If the IRS could do their job and get that asshole behind bars, the state government would also be $3 billion richer. That's a problem for another day.

Currently, as an untrained submissive, Anastasia spends far too much time in her own world. She will have to be taught to pay more attention to her Dom. This morning, a few sharp words did the trick, but I expect it is going to take a lot more than that. I am also furious that she is still driving that deathtrap of a car. As her Dom, I will be reponsible for her, and I take it seriously. Taylor can take care of that 'Wanda' for me. She didn't open her emails from Roz, which not only is irresponsible as an employee, but the height of bad manners to a manager and co-worker. Roz is my right hand woman and I trust her implicitly. What Gwen and Roz do in their own time is none of my business, but when she is in work, Roz Moore is no-one's fool. And, if she signs our contract, by the end of next week, she'll know not to ignore an email again. I will provide her with a blackberry, and a tablet. I'll get Barney to check out the security on her laptop, if she is going to use it for email.

Considering the D/s contract, I think my first draft will have to be quite simple, with a renegotiation in a month. I want Anastasia to know what the definitions of wax play, anal play and edge play are, but they will not necessarily form part of our long term contract. Well, anal play will, because I'm an assman, but by the time we get to that, she'll be happy to comply. For all I know she might have some kink up her sleeve that I haven't tried. She does have quite an imagination, and helping her free it up might actually be interesting for me too.

There's a knock at the door and I call them in. 1.30. It's Roz and Gwen. Actually, it's the weekend so it's Gwen and Roz. Roz is tall, with hair redder than mine, and Gwen is small, and blonde. I suppress a chuckle at Roz's attire. There's no Ralph Lauren suit and Jimmy Choos today, but instead she's dressed in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and her hair is in pigtails. Gwen must still be in an early Britney Spears phase - her first ever girl crush. Really does give 'hit me baby, one more time' a whole new meaning.

I motion at them to sit. "Wherever you want Gwen, it's Sunday, and I'm taking your starlet from home."

"It's ok Christian." She sits down on the sofa and points at an office chair to Roz. I don't move from behind my desk.

"Roz, did you know that Anastasia Steele didn't open her email directing her to collect and start using her new car?"

"Yes, Boss. I had noticed that, but was giving her the benefit of the doubt for a few days. She seemed quite distracted in her new job." Of course she was. With the help of Roz, I had sourced all those books for Anastasia's internship. "Actually, Boss, she didn't open any emails. I'm not sure she even accessed the program."

"It's hardly acceptable Roz. She should have had more common sense than that."

Roz and Gwen exchange a look. I run my hands through my hair, and stand up, in full Dom mode. "What is wrong with the pair of you?"

Gwen nods to Roz. "Go ahead, Sweetie, speak freely."

"Boss, you haven't acted like this since…" I hold my hand up. I don't want to hear her name. "Anyway, from what Barney said, this Ana seems like a sweet girl."

"She is. And that's why I need your advice." Roz is a fucking genius on employment contracts.

"You can't fire her because you like her, Boss. We could find something in her contract, sure, but to dismiss her over not reading an email is unethical."

"I don't want to fire her! I want her as my sub, and I don't need the fucking world knowing about it." I start to pace, knowing that this nervous energy and my pathetic twelve hour case of blue balls isn't making anyone feel more comfortable.

Roz picks up a pen and drums idly on the table for a few seconds. "Boss, when we were sourcing those books, a lot of them came through the warehouses of Seattle Independent Publishing. The current owner, Marcus Roach is looking to retire to Hawaii, to spend his retirement away from the rain." she pauses, as we all gaze out to the grey day. "If GEH were to expand on its current literary diversion, Ana could be employed there, she could continue her cataloging work, and you could also arrange for digital restoration of some of the more fragile books."

Looks like Monday will be the day to buy a new company, as well as initiating discussions on Miss Steele's additional contract.


	13. Chapter 13

Hello all, thank you for reading, and thank you so much to the Betas. I can't believe that you take the time to correct my mistakes :)

Chapter 13

I spent most of the day in bed, curled up under my favourite blue patchwork quilt. My mom made it during one of her creative phases, and I love it. Ironic really, as Carla has never really been the quintessential mother figure; in one of my more reflective moments I felt that she channeled her love into this quilt, and maybe that's why it's called a comforter. She married young and did her best, but when I was sixteen I moved back to WA to be with my dad Ray. By that time she was on to husband number three, a man who wanted a wife but not a step-daughter. Ray had formally adopted me when I was two, and he's the only father I've ever known. Carla is currently married to husband number four. Since this marriage has lasted five years, I hope that she and Bob enjoy many more happy years together.

Rather than writing, I whiled away the afternoon researching D/s contracts online. Like anything on the internet, there's everything from a simple paragraphed contract to five pages of turgid text. Those ones I couldn't even understand. Perhaps they are for kinksters who get off on administration. You never know what way people are wired, and given my previous evening, who am I to judge? I was amazed at how many of these contracts appeared to be between long-term partners. I felt a pang of envy when I saw how content these people were within their chosen lifestyle. I couldn't help but wonder if I would be as happy as they appeared to be.

Reading and writing about spanking and punishment always been arousing to me, and on perusing these blogs and websites, that has not changed. However, now that I've actually handled those implements it has tempered my feelings a little. I used to fantasise about teasing my imaginary master, seeing how far I could push him before he finally took me over his knee, but my thoughts are changing. I'm not sure I'd want to push Christian. I saw the glint in his eye as I took in the sights of his playroom. I need to go back in there to explore it more; my initial amazement and shock meant that I didn't take everything in fully. Speaking of exploration, my hands and fingers take a familiar turn southwards, as I think about last night and how amazing I felt. I feel more than a little decadent; when I sign a contract with Christian he might stipulate that I can no longer pleasure myself. That will be so hard to do, but the idea that it will make him happy is getting me so wet, I can barely hold back.

"Ana! AAAAnnnnnnahhhhh! Are you in?" Ratfarts. It's Kate. I hear a muffled man's voice in the background.

"Shh, Katy, she might be sleeping off last night's sex." Loud tutting is followed by an even louder knock on my door.

"Go away, I AM asleep!" Or rather I would have been if I'd been left in peace to have a quiet orgasm and relax into a late afternoon nap.

The maelstrom of long legs and strawberry blonde hair belly rolls on top of me, and I 'ooof' as I find my breath again. "Well, tell me! How'd your hot date go? We want to know!" The 'we' of course includes Elliott who is standing leaning against the door frame, arms folded, wearing a shit-eating grin.

I look from Kate, to Elliott and back again. I pull the quilt over my head and turn onto my side, but Kate's having none of it.

"Oh come on Ana! You know I'd tell you!"

"And that is the problem! Sometimes I don't WANT to know!" Actually, I don't know what I can or can't tell her now, because of the NDA. I definitely don't want to give her any details.

Elliott clears his throat. "It's ok, Ana, I don't need any gory details. For all I know you are going to tell me that my brother is some sort of a kinky bastard. We are still getting over the fact that he isn't gay. Never knew a guy to 'in' himself, rather than 'out' himself, but there you go." He chuckles and leaves us alone.

"Come on, BanAna, you spent the night there." Kate wheedles "You must have something to tell me."

"Kate, it's early days, ok? Let's just say that I had a good night." Now, time for a diversionary tactic.

"How was lunch at Bellevue? I love the threads, looks like you were dressing to impress." Kate sits up and laughs at me, and smooths down her outfit. In that knee length shift dress, and Jackie-O cardigan she couldn't have looked more demure if she tried. All she needed was a string of pearls and a Hermes scarf and she'd have been the epitome of a WASP stereotype.

"I was so nervous, Ana." Nervous? Kate doesn't do nervous. Years of private schooling and international travel have given her a confidence that I could never achieve. When I give her a quizzical grunt, she continues. "It's just that they were such genuine people; I was expecting them to be a little cold, given my father's profile, and, I don't know… " she trails off. This is a new side of Kate.

"You really like him, don't you?" When she beams like a teenager with a backstage pass for a One Direction concert, I wriggle out from under the covers and give her a hug. "I know nothing about nothing, Kate, but it seems to me that he likes you too."

"Do you think so?" If this self-doubt is what love does to the tenacious Kate Kavanagh, I am buggered.

* * *

Monday morning is here again and I'm back in my little basement library in Grey House. Barney sticks his head in around the door, which I'd left ajar. You never know who might visit me.

"Morning, Ana! Did you have a good weekend? Get up to anything exciting?" I'm sure I turn beet red.

"Um, I, well, you know…." I stammer. Wow, I'm smooth. _Actually Barney, I cashed in my v-card with our boss._ "I had a great weekend, thanks. You?"

He gives me a cheeky wink, the confidence he exudes completely incongruous against his wild hair and rumpled clothes. "Oh, you know how it is at the weekend, Ana." He gives an exaggerated shoulder roll and tilts his head from side to side, as if easing tired muscles. He bounces his eyebrows and rolls his eyes skywards, presumably to Andrea, Roz or Christian upstairs. "Better get started with work before someone starts cracking the whip." Fuck, I hope that's just a turn of phrase. As he leaves, I hear him say a quick 'Hi' to a woman. I don't hear what she says, but Barney replies with a 'Yeah, she's in there. Don't you be picking on her, R, she's a keeper."

A tall woman in the most beautifully tailored trouser suit comes into my little den. She's got the patented GEH haircut, but rather than blonde, she's got red hair. It's not coppery like Christian's, it's much brighter. I've only seen hair like that on TV.

"Good morning, Ana. I'm Roz Moore." Ohhh, formal. This must be Christian's second in command. She's just like him. Oh fuck. What if she is just. Like. Him?

I manage a squeaky hello, and finally, her face softens. She opens her palm and places a set of keys on the desk.

"Uhm, what are these?" I mean I know they are car keys, but I'm an intern, I'd not be eligible for such a perk.

"These are the keys to your new car." My what? I stare at them like I've never seen an Audi key-ring before. "Your car. When you signed your contract, a car was included."

I frown. "But I have a car." I think of Wanda, my vintage baby.

"Oh, yes, your VW Beetle. You can keep that in storage, if you want, but as an employer, Mr Grey likes to look after his staff." She pushes the keys towards me. "As an employee of GEH, you are expected to be an adult and responsible for your own safety. From a corporate point of view, Mr Grey believes that this is a small price to pay to ensure that staff turn up to work in one piece. He does not need staff calling in, saying that they will be late due to a breakdown. Also, the driver of a barely roadworthy car is statistically more likely to be in a road traffic accident." She does have a point. Wanda easily falls into the category of 'barely roadworthy', but she's mine.

I don't hear Christian come in. He gives Roz a quick nod, before dropping an envelope on the desk. "Good morning, Boss. See you at 11.30." I bite my lip, but it's more to check for drool than anything else. When Roz gives me the barest glimpse of a wink, I'm convinced that she knows that I like him.

"I notice that you have accepted your car keys, Ana. Good. I'm glad to see it."

He closes the door with a gentle snick.

"Stand up, Ana." What is it about this man, that I just want to do whatever he says? I never thought of myself as a natural 'people pleaser'. When he gives me a soft 'good girl' I can't help but smile to myself. He puts his hand on the small of my back, and guides me to the edge of the desk. He lifts me up so that my hips are just resting at the side of the table. When he uses his knee to gently prise my legs apart, he gives a low groan at my compliance. He takes my hands and allows our fingers to interlace. "Ana, you are going to be the undoing of me!" Suddenly he pushes my hands behind my back and holding both of them in one of his; he holds the back of my head with the other and pulls me towards him. Our lips collide, and his tongue forces its way between my lips, my initial shock at his dominance yielding to his demanding kiss. His hand fists in my hair, the sharp pain of the tug pulling against my scalp. I wriggle my hands, but he holds them firm. "Mine," he growls. Not taking his hand from my head, he breaks away from my swollen bruised mouth, a scratch of stubble grazing my cheek; rough enough to leave a mark. His lips brush against the shell of my ear. "Answer me Ana!" I don't answer quickly enough and I feel a nip on my lobe.

"Yes." I breathe, "Yours."

When he releases me from his hold, he sits in my chair, and puts his feet on my desk, crossing his ankles. I look around and realize I can sit on the floor, or remain semi-standing where he just … owned me. "Ana, we need to discuss two things."

Two? "Um, two? I thought there was just one contract"

"Oh yes, that contract yes." His expression is one of a kid in a candy store. "But the second item dovetails from that. Much as I would love to keep you down here chained and at my beck and call," he arches a brow, "I like to keep my private life private."

Private? What. The. Fuck. Does he think that he can just fire me now because I've agreed to be his sub? That is not how it's supposed to work. He might have his precious contracts, but I've got Ray Steele, ex-Marine, full-time good dad and part-time bad-ass. "So now you want rid of me?"

"Fuck! No Ana!" he mutters under his breath. "First Roz, and now you." Was he talking to Roz about me? I knew that they worked together but I didn't think that they were friends. He gives an exasperated sigh. "I value my privacy and that of my close circle of friends."

"Is that why you make them sign NDAs?" He narrows his eyes, stares at me, uncoiling from the chair, a cobra ready to strike. He takes up his original position between my legs, he pinches my thigh. Ow!

Dropping to his knees, he softens the sharp pinch with a gentle kiss, and I moan, willing him to move further up to my happy zone. He moves away again and I'm left wanting more. "Less of your smart mouth. I'm not explaining myself to you. The sooner we go through the contract, the sooner I can put a gag over that smart mouth of yours."

I swallow, and lower my gaze.

Dom Christian disappears and Dom CEO is back. "Essentially Ana, if we go down this route, I would like to transfer you to Seattle Independent Publishing."

Wow. "I had applied for a post there, and was offered it, but then took GEH instead."

His lack of surprise indicates that this is nothing new to him. "GEH has taken over SIP. Roach, the owner is retiring now. As Seattle Independent Publishing is now listed within my holdings, within that business framework you be able to continue your cataloguing for the GEH Library, you will also be able to garner experience in other fields of interest." This is an amazing opportunity for me. The only thing that I don't really like is that the man who interviewed me, Jack Hyde, gave me the creeps. Nothing I can put my finger on, but just a sense of unease. No point in telling Christian about that, though. What's to tell?

"Um, is this because you don't want to be seen with me, as your sub?"

"Partly. I have no desire to micromanage your life, outside our contract. If you work there, the connection to you and I will be a little more tenuous. You need your privacy too Ana, but we'll talk about that when we discuss the contract."

Mentally I scan back over everything that I read the previous day, and I eye the brown folder on the desk. He follows my gaze, and picks it up, unfolding the metal tack securing it shut. He lifts out a sheaf, yes a sheaf! of papers.

"We can discuss this tomorrow night at dinner. I have booked a private room at Canlis for us." He flicks through the pages. "This is the draft contract. I suggest you read it very carefully." An arch and a smirk. "Currently you seem to have a problem reading contracts. I believe that failure to comply with this simple request might result in your first punishment."

My mouth is dry, my core is wet. Never mind mental images of contracts, all I can see is the playroom, and I'm nervous but exhilarated. He gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek and leaves me alone.

The text is swimming before my eyes as I drop into my chair. My paperwork.


	14. Chapter 14

This chapter leans heavily on the contract from the original book. I can't be bothered torturing you all with the contract, so if you want to read EL James' version, it's here.

James, E L (2011-05-25). Fifty Shades of Grey: Book One of the Fifty Shades Trilogy (p. 175). Random House, Inc

If you want to read my abridged version, great!

If you want to skip it, then be my guest – my chapters are meant to be fun to read, not a chore!

Thanks Ariadne, sillie and Wattle.

* * *

Chapter 14

If I thought that the contract for my job was detailed, this new contract takes things to a whole new level. When I see this written in black and white, I don't know what to think. If nothing else, it doesn't look like he has cut and pasted my name over some previous sub's.

**Contract**

**Made this day** ("The Commencement Date")

**Between:** Mr Christian Grey, henceforth known as the Dominant AND

Miss Anastasia Steele, henceforth known as the submissive.

**Length of Contract:**

This contract shall be effective for a period of ONE calendar month from the Commencement Date. On the expiry of the Term the parties shall discuss whether this contract and the arrangements they have made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the needs of each party have been met.

Either party may propose the extension of this contract subject to adjustments to its terms or to the arrangements they have made under it.

In the absence of agreement to such extension this contract shall terminate and both parties shall be free to resume their lives separately.

**The P(p)arties agree as follows: **

The following are the terms of a binding contract between the Dominant and the submissive.

Both P(p)arties understand that this contract is not a legal document in a US Court of Law.

**Fundamental Terms:**

The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits, and her well-being.

It is understood by both parties that this is the submissive's first relationship in a BDSM context and that many different practices will be explained and discussed.

The Dominant and the submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract. Additional limits and safety procedures may be agreed in writing prior to or following any activity deemed a hard limit by the Dominant or submissive.

The Dominant and the submissive each warrant that they have no sexually transmitted diseases, and are willing to undertake a blood test prior to commencement of the contract.

Adherences to the above agreements are fundamental to this contract. Any breach shall render it void with immediate effect and each party agrees to be fully responsible to the other for the consequence of any breach.

Everything in this contract must be read and interpreted in the light of the fundamental purpose and the fundamental terms, and that consent has been given and accepted.

**Limits**

Both the Dominant and the submissive will have hard and soft limits. A hard limit is one which is non-negotiable; a soft limit is one which may be approached with caution. As the submissive is new to the lifestyle, the Dominant shall guide the submissive through the lifestyle and will not impose His own personal hard limits or soft limits on her.

**Role of the Dominant**

The Dominant is fully aware that the submissive has given her consent. This gift of submission shall be treated with the utmost respect by the Dominant.

The submissive is new to the lifestyle and the Dominant will take this into consideration. He will help her to learn and explore the wide spectrum of activities within BDSM, whilst being aware to explain and address any concerns or questions that she may have. To the best of His knowledge and ability He will mentor and guide her through her journey.

The Dominant shall not enter into any other romantic or BDSM relationship for the duration of the contract.

The Dominant undertakes to care for and cherish his submissive.

The Dominant is responsible for the submissive's health and safety.

The Dominant agrees that he will not put his needs above the submissive's career development

The Dominant will be responsible for the discipline and training of the submissive.

The Dominant will make all decisions regarding the discipline, punishment and rewarding of the submissive.

If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations, and safety procedures set out in this contract, the submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice.

**Role of the submissive**

The submissive understands that she has given herself over to her Dominant, for His exclusive use.

The submissive shall not enter into any other romantic or BDSM relationship during the contracted times.

The submissive is aware that any decisions made on her behalf by the Dominant are for her improvement and are non-negotiable.

The submissive will serve and obey the Dominant during all contractual times.

The submissive will accept with grace any training, guidance, discipline or reward as administered by the Dominant.

The submissive shall give the Dominant pleasure as He sees fit, without query or hesitation.

If at any time the submissive fails to keep to the agreed terms, limitations, and safety procedures set out in this contract, and makes no effort to please the Dominant, He has the right to terminate this contract forthwith and to release the submissive from His service.

**Availability**

The submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week. Further allocated time can be mutually agreed upon an ad hoc basis.

The Dominant shall choose all locations for activity, and will be responsible for ensuring that the submissive's travel to and from any location is safe and secure, with all costs covered.

The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant. If the contract is dissolved prior to the end date, each party has a right to seek feedback and clarification on the reasons for the dissolution.

**Dominant**

The Dominant shall make the submissive's health and safety a priority at all times. The Dominant shall not at any time require, request, allow, or demand the submissive to participate at the hands of the Dominant in any act that either party deems to be unsafe.

The Dominant accepts the submissive as His, to own, control, dominate, and discipline during the Term. The Dominant may use the submissive's body at any time during the term of the contract.

The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with all necessary training and guidance in how to properly serve the Dominant.

In case of illness or injury the Dominant shall care for the submissive, seeing to her health and safety, encouraging and, when necessary, ordering medical attention when it is judged necessary by the Dominant.

The Dominant shall maintain his own good health and seek medical attention when necessary.

**Submissive**

The submissive accepts the Dominant as her master, with the understanding that she is now the property of the Dominant, to be dealt with as He pleases during the term of the contract.

The submissive may not alter her hair, or receive any piercings or tattoos whilst she is the property of the Dominant.

The submissive shall not touch or pleasure herself sexually without permission from the Dominant.

The submissive shall obey any rules issued by the Dominant

The submissive shall serve the Dominant in any way the Dominant sees fit and shall endeavour to please the Dominant at all times to the best of her ability.

The submissive shall take all measures necessary to maintain her good health and will keep the Dominant appraised of any issues that may arise.

The submissive shall accept all punishments, whether corporal or otherwise, without question and with grace.

The submissive shall keep her eyes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant unless He requests otherwise.

The submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dominant and shall address Him only as Sir, Mr Grey, or such other title as the Dominant may direct.

The submissive will not touch the Dominant without his express permission to do so.

The submissive may be required to attend functions where she will come into contact with other Dominants, and she shall accept her own Dominant's instruction on behaviour.

**Punishments**

The Dominant may discipline the Submissive as necessary to ensure the Submissive fully appreciates her role of subservience to the Dominant and to discourage unacceptable conduct. The Dominant may flog, spank, whip, or corporally punish the submissive as he sees fit, for purposes of discipline, for his own personal enjoyment, or for any other reason, which he is not obliged to provide.

The Dominant will explain the use of each item within His Playroom, so that the submissive understands their use within corporal punishment.

In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that no permanent marks are made upon the submissive's body nor any injuries incurred that may require medical attention.

The Dominant may restrain, handcuff, or bind the submissive at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times for any reason and for extended periods of time, giving due regard to the health and safety of the submissive.

The Dominant will explain and demonstrate the use of each item of restraint prior to use within any scene.

**Safewords**

The Dominant and the submissive recognize that the Dominant may make demands of the submissive that cannot be met without incurring physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or other harm at the time the demands are made to the submissive. In such circumstances related to this, the submissive may make use of a safe word depending on the severity of the demands.

The Safe word "Yellow" will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the submissive is close to her limit of endurance.

The Safe word "Red" will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the submissive cannot tolerate any further demands. When this word is said, the Dominant's action will cease completely with immediate effect.

**Conclusion**

We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of this contract. We freely accept the terms of this contract and have acknowledged this by our signatures below.

The Dominant: _

The submissive: _

**Rules**

Obedience: The submissive will obey any instructions given by the Dominant immediately without hesitation or reservation and in an expeditious manner. The submissive will agree to any sexual activity deemed fit and pleasurable by the Dominant.

Sleep: The submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of eight hours' sleep a night when she is not with the Dominant.

Food: The submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and well-being from a prescribed list of foods. The submissive will not snack between meals, with the exception of fruit.

Clothes: During the Term the submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant shall accompany the submissive to purchase clothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires, the submissive shall, during the Term, wear adornments the Dominant shall require, in the presence of the Dominant and at any other time the Dominant deems fit.

Personal Hygiene/Beauty: The submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The submissive will visit a beauty salon of the Dominant's choosing at times to be decided by the Dominant and undergo whatever treatments the Dominant sees fit. All costs will be met by the Dominant.

Personal Safety: The submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs, or put herself in any unnecessary danger.

Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant.

* * *

I hear a knock on the architrave of the door. It's Barney. I start to shuffle all the papers together and stuff them back into the envelope. He covers his eyes in mock embarrassment "Oh, I don't want to see whatever top secret paperwork you are working on!" Top secret? What does he know?

"I, um... oh it's nothing Barney." I give myself a paper cut as I shove them back into the envelope. "Ow!" I suck my poor sliced finger. Barney leaves the room, and I hear him rattling out in the hall. He comes in again shaking a pack of plasters and blister pack of gauze.

"Occupational hazard for you paper pushers. There's a first aid box for every four offices." He gives me a cheeky wink. "Hold out your boo-boo for me." He takes the gauze and puts pressure on it until it stops bleeding. Why do those little cuts hurt so much anyway? I watch as he unwraps the sticky plaster and wraps it around my little stinging cut. He kisses his finger then touches my plaster. "There. Owie all taken care of, thanks to Barney!" I can't help but return his infectious grin. "Tell you what Ana, I won't tell the Big Boss, if you won't." He packs up his mini triage kit, and gives a quick look to my half-stuffed envelope. "We can pretend this is our own NDA, okay? It's our ND-CG." I laugh as I work it out. Non Disclosure to Christian Grey. Or rather, Non Disclosure to Sir, if the contract is anything to go by.

"Have you heard that I will be moving to Seattle Independent Publishing?"

"Yeah. It'll be a great experience for you, given your interest in publishing, but it'll be a pity not to have you around here. Perhaps you won't have to move there full time, bearing in mind that you and I will be working together on the library project." He pops out of the room, presumably to put the bandages back in the first aid box. "It was nice having another prisoner in the dungeon." Dungeon? My mind flashes back to the playroom. I know I must be blushing, as my mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to form words, as he walks back into the office. "Hey, there English Literature graduate! It's a figure of speech. I've been working for the Boss now for seven years, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a dungeon here. Buuuuut, this is the Boss." He chuckles to himself. "See you later and mind you don't do yourself any more damage with your paperwork."

* * *

I have never been to Canlis before. Once again, the plum dress gets an outing. Hey, if the Duchess of Cambridge can wear nude pumps with everything, then I can wear my plum dress. Besides, with the skinny gold D & G belt (borrowed from Kate - Kavanagh, not Middleton) it gives it a whole new lease of life. I have squashed my contract with my questions into my rather small handbag. It's a bit bulgy, but hopefully he won't notice.

I peek out the window, and see another Audi pull up. The one I've been given is an A3. It's a dream to drive. I always felt like I was really 'driving' when I was in Wanda, but now that I've got power steering, cruise control and sat nav. I feel a little guilty that it took me less than 24 hours to fall in love with Eva. She perfect in her shiny, metallic, red glory. I open the door to meet Christian, and I stop in my tracks. I've seen him in his navy business suits for work before, but tonight he's all in tone-on-tone grey and he is wearing that tie. I don't think I'll be able to make it through the night without throwing myself at him. I'll agree to anything if it means that my body is at his mercy. How can a simple necktie send me into the throes of pre-orgasm?

"Anastasia, you look exquisite tonight." He offers me his arm and he walks me to his car. He opens the door for me and when I am seated, I go to pull it shut, but he shakes his head. "No. It is my responsibility to take care of you." These old time manners are charming, but also a bit annoying.

When he gets into the driver's seat, I fasten my seatbelt and he checks that I've secured it in its lock. "Christian, I am capable of buckling a seat belt, and closing a door."

He curls a finger under my chin. "Did you read the contract, Anastasia?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, unless you mis-read it, you do recall seeing the paragraph where I said I was responsible for your well-being and safety?"

"Yes, but..."

"'But' nothing. What if you did not close the door properly? What if you did not fasten your seatbelt correctly?" I give a small nod as I'm acutely aware of his finger on my chin. "As my submissive I expect you to submit to me and my requirements, without question." Those grey eyes are boring through me, and again, I am the first to drop my gaze. I haven't signed the contract yet, but to indicate my contriteness, I answer him the only way that will help to remedy the situation, and perhaps save me from a punishment.

"As you wish, Sir." The world felt so natural falling from my lips, and it's so hard not to give myself a smug internal high-five.

"Good girl." He traces his finger up to my lips and I involuntary kiss it. I wish it was his lips on mine. Turning the key in the ignition, we drive off to Canlis.

I look around for the Shadow. "Where's Taylor?"

"He is following us."

"Does Taylor know about your..." What do I call it? Playroom? Torture Chamber? Kinks?

"He is aware of my lifestyle choice, yes. But he is not paid to comment." Well, that puts an end to that line of conversation. When we arrive at the restaurant, I go to unclick my seatbelt, but one look from Christian and I put my hands back in my lap. He walks back around to the passenger side, and opens the door.

"You may release your seatbelt now Anastasia." For a man who doesn't want to micromanage my life, this is not what I expected.

Guiding me by the small of my back, we enter Canlis. His hand feels comforting and reassuring. At least with him I look like I fit in here. I allow myself another in-grin at the idea of pulling up in Wanda.

We are greeted by the Maitre d', who introduces himself as Stephan. I had my money on a 'Marc' or 'Pierre', but a 'Stephan' doesn't surprise me. He escorts us to a private dining room, which easily could hold 12 people, but tonight it's just for us. He discreetly hands Christian a sealed envelope, which Christian takes with the whisper of a nod and places to one side. There is a window, but the drapes are pulled shut, and the lighting is subdued yet not dark.

Stephan pulls out my chair, and I thank him and sit down. When Christian had settled himself, he addresses the waiter, who has just appeared from nowhere. I look around for his hiding place, but can't see any doors.

"Good evening. Tonight my companion and I will have the oysters in red wine mignonette, followed by Muscovy Duck." He's ordering for me! I have never had oysters, but I suppose I should try them once.

"An excellent choice, Sir." The waiter doesn't bat an eyelid at the fact that Christian ordered for both of us. I am not sure I'd ever be that professional. "And would Sir care to peruse the wine list?"

"No, that will not be necessary; we shall have the Penfolds Grange – year 2000 – please."

"Very good, Sir. The sommelier will be along with your choice shortly." Mr Waiter gives a slight bow and this time I follow as he leaves. One of the window 'drapes' is not a curtain, but a screen, and I see a crack of light as a door opens behind it, presumably to the kitchen.

"Curious about the architecture or do I need to request a different waiter, Anastasia?"

"Huh? Oh, Sorry. I'm just not used to places like this. It's just a bit unusual for me is all." I make a mental note not to be impressed in future. "Next time, I'll Google it, Sir."

Christian opened the envelope that Stephan had left on the table. Have your brought your comments? I had tri-folded the document and squeezed it into my handbag. Smoothing it out on the table, it looks so tatty compared to his pristine copy. At least this way he knows I actually looked at it.

"Well, Anastasia, do you have any questions? Or as you put it earlier, did you 'Google it' already?"

"Some things I looked up, and some things have given me more questions than answers."

"Communication is key, Anastasia. How can I help?"

"Um, well, I looked up a few sample contracts online, and this one seems a bit, well, detailed."

"And, let me guess, a significant number of those D/s contracts were for couples who are in long term relationships, often married?" He is right.

He takes both my hands in his, holding them in a prayer position, but horizontally. He kisses the tips of my thumbs. "Firstly, you are new to the lifestyle. You may have read lots of fiction, but fact is very different." He kisses my forefingers. "Secondly, there are many themes and flavours in the lifestyle. Some things might sound exciting, but you won't like them in reality." Next, the kiss lands on my middle fingers. "Third, other things, like the oysters you are going to try tonight, might sound unappealing but will give you great pleasure." There is a pause and a gentle push to straighten my hands to an upright prayer. Next, a nibble on my ring fingers. "Fourth, we are getting to know each other, and as we develop our relationship, the terms of the contract can be renegotiated." Finally, he takes my little fingers to his lips, and nips them lightly with his teeth. "And, fifth, I am your mentor and your Dom, and I want to train you to be my most perfect sub. The contract will offer you some protection too, and whilst not everything will be fun for you, its comprehensive nature will ensure your in-depth understanding of the lifestyle."

"Were you ever a sub, or is that a silly question?"

"There are no such things as silly questions, Anastasia. But to answer your question, yes, I was." His face changes a little, as if he's reliving a memory.

"Were you happy?"

He clears his throat as the sommelier comes forward with the wine, wrapped up in its own linen napkin. My wine is normally wrapped in a brown paper bag; I thought that $10 on a bottle of Californian white was enough for anyone. The sommelier pops open the cork with a flourish, and pours a little into Christian's glass. It's red. I have never really drank red before. Christian swirls his glass, holds it to his nose, and inhales. Finally, he takes a sip, and gives a nod. With no further conversation, both our glasses are half-filled and the sommelier disappears again.

"Happy? I thought I was. I was growing up, and my needs were changing."

I swallow, and think of my own stories, and my fantasy of a collar. "Were you collared?"

"Yes." Hold the phone. Did he say 'growing up'? I do a bit of mental calculation in my head. He had said that his relationships with submissives lasted for varying lengths of time.

"What age were you when you were a submissive?"

He takes a sip of wine, and carefully puts the glass on the table. "From sixteen to twenty-one." Fuck. That's my age. At sixteen, sex was the last thing on my mind, mostly because I was terrified of STDs and pregnancy, but also because of my Dad. If he had thought that his little girl wanted to be tied up and dominated, he'd have wanted to get me to a therapist, and worried what he had done wrong. Ray was a perfect dad, this was just me. Some people like oysters, some like mozzarella sticks.

"Will you collar me?"

"I don't know yet Anastasia. I have never collared a submissive." It's my turn to take a sip of wine. Oh wow, its jammy and fruity and yummy. I'm sure that's exactly how Mr Sommelier would describe it too. "So, just as this is your first D/s relationship, perhaps there will be firsts for me too?"

"What are we?"

"What are we?" The ratfarter turns the question back on me. "What do you think we are?"

Now it's my turn to try and communicate. "Well, it's just that Kate and Elliott think we are dating... I'm not sure if that makes me your 'special friend'" I give theatrical air quotes. "Or your sub."

"Contractually, you are going to be my sub, Anastasia, but a romantic relationship is a much more organic thing." He's right there. I fancy the pants off Christian, but only time will tell if we will be 'more'.

"Have you ever had a romantic relationship with a sub?"

"Yes, I have. You are a living breathing person, Anastasia, as am I. I'm 28 years old, and just like with any couple in a vanilla relationship, there has to be some level of attraction." I feel a pang of jealousy for whatever subs have been 'more' for him. Oh fuck. What if he was in love with his Domme?

"Have you ever been in love?"

He gives an exasperated sigh, and runs his fingers through his hair. "Have you been taking lessons from Miss Kavanagh? Have I been in love? No. Have you?"

He stops me in my tracks. I have liked guys, I have made out with a few guys. I have been in 'like' but not in love. "No, I haven't."

For a split second he looks like a shy teenage boy, and not a Dom, CEO or otherwise. "Will you accompany me to a business dinner next Thursday evening?" I glance at the contract. It specifies Friday evening to Sunday night. He clears his throat. "As my date?"

"Sir, I'd really like that." We clink our glasses, and the first course arrives.


	15. Chapter 15

Hello all - this is long by my standards, but I hope I haven't bored y'all silly!

Funniest fanfics chapters this week Lilithblood's Claiming of Fifty Shades and Smile Rose's Ana Meets Her Man of 'Steele'

And, if you haven't cried sad and happy tears at Wattle's Accidentally There, then you just aren't paying attention!

* * *

Chapter 15

I nearly jump out of my skin when the waiter appears again, but this time he isn't alone. With as much pomp and ceremony he shakes out my napkin and drapes it over my lap. I didn't think restaurants really did that any more. I mutter a nervous 'thank you' and he merely nods in acknowledgement. His colleague places an oval dish of oysters on the table. Hmmmmm, whatever chef came up with the concept of delicacies must have a bizarre sense of humour. Frogs' Legs? Snails? Caviar is nothing more than fish eggs, and sweetbreads are the thymus or pancreas of a calf. I suppose dwelling on the bovine endocrine system is not going to entice me into enjoying this particular species of shell fish.

He offers me one. I poke it suspiciously. I can't remember if these things are dead or alive. He gives a dry chuckle. "Don't play with your food." Picking one up himself he says "Put it to your lips and let the morsel glide down your throat." Hmmmmm. "Anastasia." He touches his oyster shell to mine, in homage the clink of our wine glasses not five minutes ago. "I'm going to be your Dom; you have got to trust me." Trust.

"Okay." I tip the oyster shell to my lips and the contents slide down my throat. I didn't get much texture, but there was a pleasant sweet salty taste. "Hey, that wasn't as bad as I thought."

He raises his right eyebrow into a perfect arch. "I hope to be hearing those words a lot more often from you, Anastasia."

I smooth out my paper, the bubbles, arrows and scribbles adding to the already tatty document. "Well, Anastasia, I am glad to see that you have made some notes." Sarky bastard. "Nice to know you can read a contract." Double sarky bastard.

"You really like to cross your I's and dot your Ts don't you?" Or is that the other way around? I take sip of wine. A long sip. "I mean, cross your Ts and dot your I's?" I am nervous, but it must be the wine.

Christian puts his hand over my glass. "I think you have had enough alcohol for the meantime." Wanker. It's something that I've circled in the contract and I'll ask him about it when we move down the list.

"Okay, I have some questions and queries here."

"So I see. I'd be disappointed if you didn't. It shows you actually did what I told you to do."

"Why have you set it for a month?" The fear of being the sixteenth notch on his flogger has crossed my mind. I'd be lying if I said otherwise.

"Normally I negotiate contracts for three months at a time. However you are a novice, and whilst I believe you are a natural submissive, this will give you the opportunity to release from the contract if we are not compatible within the lifestyle framework."

Lifestyle Framework. That's sexy. The only frame I want to be on is Christian's four poster bed frame, spread eagled whilst he spreads melted chocolate over my body and licks it off ... slowly.

"Anastasia, is there anything within the contract that scares you?"

"Scared? Not scared. I am curious about hard and soft limits. How will we negotiate these?"

"Well, there are things that you think you'll like doing, you know you'll like doing; things that you'd like to try, and things that just leave you cold. By having all the information, you will be able to make an informed choice on the 'might try' list. There are things that I don't like to do."

"Like what?"

"I don't like to draw blood on a submissive."

"Like needles in some kind of doctor scene? I hate needles so that can be in the 'leaves me cold' pile."

"No, although some participants enjoy medical play. By drawing blood, I meant whip someone until they bleed."

I pale at the idea of that. "Can I establish that as a hard limit, like now?"

"Of course."

I run my finger over the paper. The ink from the ball point pen was a little messy, and it's staining my fingertip blue. "Dominant_ and the submissive each warrant that they have no sexually transmitted diseases, and are willing to undertake a blood test prior to commencement of the contract_."

Well, I obviously know about his other 15. "Christian I don't think it's necessary that I have a blood test. You know I was your first. What about you?"

"I get checked every three months as a matter of routine. Because I'm adopted I don't know of any familial diseases. It's better to be safe than sorry." Oh. That hits me like a sledgehammer. I never even considered that with adoption before. I had never known anyone who was adopted.

There is a brief silence, as I cautiously prod another oyster. "Speaking of safe. I'm not risking pregnancy. I'm going to get the Nexplanon Implant." I've never needed contraception before, but it seems like the best for me.

"I would prefer if you received Depo-Provera." This guy knows his family planning.

"No, I want an implant. It lasts longer. Besides, my body my rules." He glares at me. That wasn't a very submissive thing to say. I qualify the statement. "My body, until I sign the contract."

"Fine." He curtly swipes the pen across the page. "As per the draft contract, I shall arrange for an OBGYN for your reproductive health."

Ok-kay... _"The Dominant shall not enter into any other romantic or BDSM relationship for the duration of the contract."_

"Well, seeing as I haven't had a long term boyfriend before now, I can't imagine that I'm going to be beating them off in the near future."

"Anastasia, you have no idea how beautiful and attractive you are. You deserve to be cherished."

"Well, that brings me in nicely to my next query. _The Dominant undertakes to care for and cherish his submissive." _ I let another sweet salty oyster slip down my throat. "So, it's not all about punishments?"

"There are punishments when you fail to obey, but there are rewards too. Sometimes all I will want to do is play with your body. You are giving it to me, and I treat all my property well." I gulp the wine, trying to hide my face. I'm convinced my panties won't be able to hold my wetness after I heard 'property'.

"_The Dominant agrees that he will not put his needs above the submissive's career development. _Is this to do with GEH or SIP?"

"Partly. Whilst I want to control you, I do need to have self control myself. There will be mornings where I'll want to fuck you seven ways to Sunday. It would be easy to order you to call in sick, but (a) you won't learn any self discipline that way and (b) I worked hard to get where I am. I will want to buy you things, but I will also want you to develop your own career. Some people might want a stay-at-home sub, but I prefer someone who has been out in the real world. Besides," he bounced his eyebrows, "you might get up to mischief in work that I simply have to correct."

"_The Dominant will make all decisions regarding the discipline, punishment and rewarding of the submissive. _What kinds of punishments are you going to use?"

He has the audacity to laugh out loud at me. "Well, I'm not going to tell you now. Some you might expect. Some you may have written about..." Fuck. I thought he only had read that one story where I had 'revisited' that night when I got rat-arsed._'_

I turn over the page. "_If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations, and safety procedures set out in this contract, the submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice._ So, what's the difference in this and me breaking the rules?"

"This is all about consent. The gift of submission is given. Some people who think they are Doms are just abusive."

"Do you mean like Sadists?"

He sighs. "That's different again. Sadists enjoy inflicting pain on others. Doms want to control another person. One can be both."

"Are you a sadist?" I push the remaining oysters away, the idea of them churning in my stomach.

"By BDSM standards, no. By vanilla standards, probably. But any pain you feel will ultimately let you develop as a person, and as a submissive."

"Have you ever terminated a contract for these reasons?"

"Yes I have." He pauses as the waiter comes in and surreptitiously lifts the detritus of shells

"Why?" I'm curious, but do I really want to know?

"Once a submissive wanted me to whip her until she bled. That was a hard limit for me. We have discussed this already Anastasia." The pain in his eyes makes me want to reach out to him. His hands run through his hair, and he gives an uncharacteristic deep 'whhhhhoooooh'. Composing himself, he threads his hands through mine. "This clause will work for you too. My aim is to be a caring, yet very firm Dom. As my sub you will revel in your submissiveness to me."

The next course comes out. It's Muscovy Duck for two. The smell is divine, and it is arranged on the platter like a work of art. The waiter offers to serve me a portion, but Christian asks him to leave. Serving himself first and then me. I pick up my fork but he shakes his head. "You cannot eat until I eat first." I carefully put the fork back in its place. He toys with his food for a few seconds and finally takes a forkful. "Now you may commence your meal, Anastasia." The duck is heavenly, and melts in my mouth. If I'd known it was going to be this good, not eating until after he did would have ended up as a hard limit." I'm sure my murmurs of appreciation sound like sex.

I try to focus_. "The submissive is aware that any decisions made on her behalf by the Dominant are for her improvement and are non-negotiable_. Non negotiable?"

"Correct."

"But what if it is not best for me?"

He gives a shrug. "You will have surrendered to me. You trust me." Taking a forkful of his own duck, he feeds me the delicious food. "Will you trust me?" I manage a nod. I'd trust him with my laptop if I got an entree like this every day.

Focus, Steele! Am I that shallow that a hot body and a hot meal can buy me? _"The submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week. Further allocated time can be mutually agreed upon an ad hoc basis. _Christian, when am I meant to see my friends?"

"You can see them during the week. What's the problem?"

"Well, we've had fun Friday the first Friday of the month since we were students." Sometimes it was a club, a bar, or sitting in front of the TV with a pile of 80s DVDs and a checklist of clichés. "I'm not giving that up."

He scowls like I've just taken his lollipop and he scratches through the paragraph. "Well, in that case on your 'fun Friday' week, I will require another night from you." I have to agree to that. I could look at that face every day anyway.

"_The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant. If the contract is dissolved prior to the end date, each party has a right to seek feedback and clarification on the reasons for the dissolution. _ Feedback? Is this your business CEO hat?"

"Yes. If you want to leave, it's consensual, but I deserve the right to know why you felt that the contract should be annulled. The same, of course, would apply to you."

My curiosity once again has the better of me. "Has this happened?"

"Another submissive was not faithful." He winces, reliving the memory. "In business, I don't expect everyone to like me, but I do expect loyalty. She should have said she met someone else." I can imagine how that feels. It took Carla and I ages to reconnect after she married husband number three. "Can we move on now, Anastasia? That is now in the past."

"Christian, do you see this part about _'The submissive may not alter her hair, or receive any piercings or tattoos whilst she is the property of the Dominant'_; is that a hard limit for you?" He doesn't speak, so I babble on, "Well you know I don't have any, but I did fancy a tat to celebrate graduation."

"Absolutely not, Anastasia. And before you cite the 'my body, my rules' again, this is non-negotiable. And if you wanted a tattoo I'd kidnap you and keep you in my playroom until you changed your mind." Right, I can tell by his smile that he is having a joke at my expense, but I'd be a big hairy liar if I said I wasn't ready to slide off the seat."

"Oh, all right," I huff, "give me your pen!"

He goes to hand it to me. "That's strike one, Anastasia." The glint in his eye is intoxicating in itself.

I take the pen and score out my objection to body modification. The next two points kind of segue into each other. "_The submissive shall keep her eyes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant unless He requests otherwise. _Like this?" I drop my eyes, and look up at Him. I hope it looks sexy.

He exhales. "Perfect. Just perfect."

"So, _The submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dominant and shall address Him only as Sir, Mr Grey, or such other title as the Dominant may direct_. When will I have to do this? Will there be times when I can call you Christian?"

"Yes, Anastasia, there will be times when it is necessary. If it's not necessary you will soon learn. In the meantime," he holds my hand and circles his thumb over the fleshy part of my palm, "if I do this, you will know that we are in a vanilla situation, and you should call me Christian."

"So, if I do this," I grab his arm, "_The submissive will not touch the Dominant without his express permission to do so_. This will get me into trouble?"

He lifts my arm from his and places it on the table. "That's strike two, Anastasia."

_The Dominant will explain the use of each item within His Playroom, so that the submissive understands their use within corporal punishment. _I look at this item carefully.

"Are you all right, Anastasia?" He looks genuinely concerned.

I swallow. "To be honest, I am kind of nervous about that."

"Well, you have a right to be concerned. But you need not worry. I will never let any harm come to you." As it is stated here, _The Dominant will explain and demonstrate the use of each item of restraint prior to use within any scene_. Again, you must trust me Anastasia."

"Do you see these safe words 'red' and 'yellow'? Can I have 'Pemberley' and 'Red'?" If this is a mutual contract, I should have some say in this. He laughs, but with a flourish on the paper worthy of Mr Darcy, he agrees.

We are now onto the final page of the contract. The 'Rules'

"Do you see this piece on 'obedience', well, what if I don't want to?"

Christian, doesn't even look put out. "You will do it. You will want me to be happy."

"But what about my happiness?"

"That will come from seeing me happy." I'm not entirely at ease with myself over it, but I recall his earlier words to trust him.

"Well, you want me to sleep eight hours a night. I can't sleep that long. I'll end up tossing and turning."

"I can't make you sleep, but I can tell you to rest. I do not want you out partying every night, or staying up beyond a reasonable bedtime. The late nights will impact on your concentration and your beautiful complexion. I told you, I look after my property. This also includes drinking to excess, smoking, recreational drug use or putting yourself in unnecessary danger."

"What is your prescribed list of foods?" Whilst it can't be all bad, bearing in mind the dinner we have just had, I'm still curious.

"I don't want you eating any fast food or supermarket candy. Those things are full of additives"

What? The? Fuck? "Nope." What does that say about me? I will surrender my body to another man for his sexual pleasure, but don't take away my candy. "I'm not giving up my Twizzlers stash."

Christian looks at me as if I've just addressed him in Klingon. "What is a 'twizzler'?" Is he for real?

"It's like red rope liquorice." I'm met by a blank expression. "Ok, it's a confection made with, oh, I don't know, sugar, food colourings and flavourings."

He scrunches his nose. "And you like these things?" I nod. Of course they wouldn't taste right after this meal. "I shall investigate and then we can come to an arrangement as to how many of these candies you are permitted in the week."

"Fine, we'll come back to that." I continue down the list. "During the Term the submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. What's the matter with my clothes, and for that matter, what's the matter with my body?"

"You will be my property. How I choose to dress my property is my prerogative. If you accompany me to events, your behaviour and actions will be a reflection upon me. It's not going to be appropriate if you turn up to a red carpet gala."

I snort in disgust. Does he give me no credit? "But when I'm not with you I can wear my own stuff."

"Of course. And that snort is Strike three." He can't really be serious.

"You can't be serious. And besides, I haven't signed yet."

"I am. And besides," he initials both of our scribbled annotated documents. "I have made my commitment to our relationship. The thing is, do you?" His eyes are gleaming. I'm sure that the wetness in my panties would have the same albedo reflective quality if I were to slip them off. I take the offered pen, and clearly initial A-R-S.

We are really doing this. "All done, Sir." He leans over the table and captures me in an intense explosion of a kiss, before relaxing back into his chair.

"Finish your meal, Anastasia. We have places to go."

* * *

He takes my hand and we get ready to leave the restaurant. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous. Walking through the vestibule, Christian's phone rings. "Great. Thanks Taylor. Goodbye."

He looks around. Why is he being so shifty?

The tinkling voice carries clearly though the air. "Christian! Darling!" I look up at him questioningly. Ow. He's squeezing my hand, then gives it what I think is a reassuring rub. Ohhhh, it's not just a rub. It's that secret signal he gave me. I have to call him Christian.

The couple coming towards us look like European royalty. They look to be in their early fifties, and exude sophistication. Suddenly I feel like a gawky teenager

"Good evening" he nods smoothly. The woman gives him a kiss on each cheek, the man shakes hands. He turns to me. "Anastasia, may I introduce you to Carrick and Grace Grey. My parents."

* * *

Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you all for reading!

Chapter 16

These people were his parents? Did this man ever relax around anyone? He had greeted them like business acquaintances, not family.

I catch a whisper of a look between his parents, but if they are shocked, they have certainly got the self control that I don't have. Christian releases his grasp on my hand, and my arm flops to my side.

"Ana, it is so nice to meet you." Grace extends a beautifully manicured hand, and a genuine smile. I force myself to return the gesture, praying that I don't have sweaty palms. "I'm Grace Treyvelan-Grey, Christian's mother." Her greying blonde hair is in an effortless chignon, and everything about her whispers understated elegance.

"And, I'm Carrick Grey, Christian's father." His handshake is firm, and I'm sure he gives me a reassuring squeeze. "You needn't look so scared, Ana. We are delighted to meet you." Naturally there is no family resemblance in looks, but his greeting and body movements are very similar to Christian's. Both exude the same confidence, but Christian's seems more, I don't know, measured.

I am not sure I'm delighted to meet them. Well, yes, of course I'm happy, but having this sprung on me has left me gobsmacked. What do I say to these people? ' _Hello, I'm Ana Steele, I'm an intern at your son's company, I've just screwed the boss and we have just initialled a BDSM contract_.'

"It's very nice to meet you too." I sincerely hope I don't look like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Ana, we'd be honoured if Christian would bring you out for a family lunch, sometime." Her invitation is reiterated by Carrick, with an enthusiastic nod.

"We'd like that very much." Christian answers for me. Just as well, I'd not have known what the right response would have been. "I have just acquired Seattle Independent Publishing and Anastasia and I have a number of commitments in the upcoming week, but perhaps the following week would be acceptable to you." Commitments?! So that's what he calls his plans to take me to his playroom, insist I call him 'Sir' chain my arms above my head and work me over with a riding crop, whilst I beg for more or less – I haven't decided... 'Sir's' voice interrupts my dream, "Anastasia, darling, is that all right with you, next Sunday?" He's asking the question, but I don't miss the order that it couched within.

"Oh, yes, of course, that sounds splendid, Si - Christian." I manage to stammer a semi gracious acceptance, but 'splendid'. Splendid. I may as well have said 'Top drawer' and told them that I'm secretly from Connecticut. I am Ana Steele, and I do know the difference between fantasy and reality. Christian puts his hand to the small of my back, and guides me closer to him.

"Well, if you will excuse us now, Mom, Dad, we shall be on our way." He gives his mother another kiss on the cheek, and although she doesn't make any attempt to hug him, there is no doubt about the love she feels for him. Carla drives me insane but I'd still hug her. Carrick and Christian shake hands. "Enjoy your late supper."

"You can relax, now Anastasia." He opens the passenger door and I get in.

I take a deep breath. "I just wasn't expecting that, you know."

He frowns. "Sir. 'I just wasn't expecting that, you know, Sir'." And Dominant Christian is back. I repeat the corrected sentence and am rewarded with a smile.

"Are you always so formal? They are your parents." He turns the key in the ignition. "I thought parents asked questions like 'so how did you cute kids meet?'"

He reverses out of the parking space. "My parents know I am a private person. They also know that I will share information when I am ready to do so." Glancing at me, he corrects me again "You will address me as 'Sir'."

I understand that sentiment. I don't tell Carla much because, quite frankly she doesn't understand me. I am still curious though about the lack of intimacy. "Don't you hug your parents, Sir?"

"I am not a tactile person when it comes to actions like hugs and kisses, Anastasia." I have no Oedipal desires. My parents know me and accept me for who I am.

"Do they know about your BDSM, Sir?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I have no desire to know if they are vanilla or kink, nor should they wish to know about my private life." He looks in the rear view mirror. I look in the passenger mirror. Omnipresent Taylor is driving behind us. Taylor must know about his choices. Idly, I wonder if he 'does' rather than merely 'know'.

"Do you know anyone who enjoys the lifestyle?"

"Yes, and you forgot the 'Sir' again." He shakes his head and gives a mock sorrowful tut. "I believe your strike tally is up to six now.

"Is Taylor?" The question was out before I could stop myself and I try to soften the inquiry, "Sir?"

"That is none of your business, and not my information to share." The automatic garage door into Escala opens smoothly. "Strike seven, and curiosity killed the cat." I wonder if he is messing about the strikes. Surely he wouldn't punish me tonight. "Although, Anastasia, I won't be using anything as vicious as a cat on you tonight." Turning the engine off and facing me, he raises his hand to my cheek. I lean into his touch and release a pleasured sigh. "It will be this hand, but it will not be this cheek."

I recoil slightly. "Sir, y-you aren't serious, are you?"

He pats his breast pocket, the faint crinkle of paper now an ominous reminder of what I have agreed to become. "We have initialled the contract Anastasia. Not only have you given yourself to me, but you will thank me. Now, my palm is itchy and twitching. Are you going to be a good girl, or are we going to make your strike count an even ten?"

The elevator is crackling with my tension, although I am sure for him it's anticipation. My skin is tingling, and I can feel the hairs on my neck rise with trepidation. I catch a glance at Christian and talk about the cat (ha!) that thinks he's got the cream. He shifts slightly and I see his fucking huge erection bulging against the fine wool of his pants. Making no attempt to hide his arousal, he smirks, and again gently massages the side of my face. The doors ping open and he strides into the lounge, not even turning to see if I'm behind him. I am torn between allowing the doors to slide close again, and running away, but my own nerves and excitement get the better of me. The punishment might not be too bad, and looking at that ass, he's sex on legs and I can't resist. I follow, a docile little lamb. He stops in the lounge and finally turns to face me. I had expected him to go on up the stairs to the playroom. A switch is flicked and the curtains glide together, secluding us from the twinkly rainy Seattle night.

Unfolding the initialled contract and dropping it onto the coffee table, he settles himself on the sofa, legs spread apart and erection plainly visible. "Now Anastasia, remind me – how many strikes have you earned? "

My knees start to shake and I wonder if they will hold me up. Somehow, being on my hands and knees feels that it would be favourable. "Seven, Sir." I try to steady the fear in my voice, but despite that, I can feel my own arousal saturating my panties.

He throws his arms over the back of the sofa, relaxed and in control. Currently I am neither of those things. _The submissive will accept with grace any training, guidance, discipline or reward as administered by the Dominant._

"Remove your dress." I raise my arm and undo the zipper at the side. I push the wide straps off my shoulders and shimmy until the dress falls to a pool on the ground. I step to the side and go to pick it up. "Leave it!" he growls. I'm standing facing him in my bra, panties, stockings and heels. "Turn around." The silence is deafening. I want to hear something, anything. "Why are you being punished Anastasia?"

The evening flies through my mind. "Sir, I didn't call you by your appropriate title, and I asked you if Ta – your staff member was in the lifestyle." I fix my eyes on the creamy coloured rug, studying the intricate tone-on-tone pattern.

"Anything else?" Ratfart. Fuck. What did he say strikes one, two and three were? I motion to turn towards him, but he snaps, "Did I give you permission to turn around?" Meekly, I take my spot again. "Well?"

"I, I can't remember, Sir, but I didn't think I had to remember."

"Strike eight." Eight? "Anastasia, Strike one. You huffed and demanded my pen to annotate your contract when I forbade you from body modification." Oh, fuck. That's right. "Strike two. You were a brat and touched my arm when the contract said that you were not to touch the Dominant without permission."

Well, I call bogus on that one. "But I hadn't signed anything at that stage, Sir."

"But you have signed now, Anastasia, and that is strike nine. Any more questions?" I shake my head. My mouth has got me into enough trouble today. "Finally, Anastasia let me remind you of your Strike three. You pouted when I informed you that you would be wearing my choice of clothes." How did he remember all that? "Turn around." I obey. He's now sitting straight up. He crooks his finger, "Come here, Anastasia." I take four faltering steps until I'm in front of him. He pats his lap. "Tonight you will be spanked over my lap. Come." I lean over his knees and he rearranges my body so that my arms and head are lying on the sofa, my torso and ass are supported on his lap and my legs are on the other side of him, resting on the cushion. He pushes my panties aside. Thrusting his finger deep inside me, he gives an appreciative murmur and. "Mmm, Anastasia, so wet, and ready for me." He removes his hand and instead caresses my backside, smoothing his hand over my panties. For a second I think all is forgiven

Thwack! "Count with me, Anastasia." He is so calm, still in control whereas I'm wriggling to get away from the next smack.

"Owww! One, Sir!" If a tattoo hurts half as much as that slap, then I'll not be doing that any time soon.

Smack! "Two, Sir!" I will not touch him unless I have permission to do so.

"Ouch! Three, Sir! Please, no more!"

"You will not pout when I tell you what to wear."

"No, Sir, I won't pout!"

Smack. Christian stops and rubs my ass, soothing the sting. "Anastasia, are you going to obey the rules? "Four, Sir, yes, I'm going to obey the rules!" Four slaps into a spanking and tears are stinging my eyes. Another two smacks in quick succession, and I count them off, followed by tender strokes, relaxing me again.

"Are you going to ask inappropriate questions about the private life of my staff?"

I manage a teary sob. "Seven, Sir. No, Sir, I will not ask inappropriate questions about your staff."

"Do you remember the rule, Anastasia?" Oh fuck, what rule now? My ass is on fire, and that's with panty protection. I can hardly think. "Sir, _The submissive is aware that any decisions made on her behalf by the Dominant are for her improvement and are non-negotiable._"

"Very good, Anastasia." A final smack and I manage my final "Eight, Sir! Nine, Sir", but it's barely audible. I'm just grateful he didn't round it up to ten.

"Good girl." He scoops me up beside him and I curl into his chest and cry. "You did very well for your first time, Anastasia."

I sniff. I want to get a hanky but I don't want to move from his arms. He reaches across me to retrieve a cotton handkerchief. He dabs my eyes, and catches a little bit of snot from my nose. "Shhh, you did really well." He inches off the sofa with me still clinging to him, and he walks towards his bedroom. He wraps me in a lambs wool blanket that was draped over the bedroom chair, and continues to rock me softly. When I have calmed down, I'm conscious of being placed on the bed, and hearing a bath been drawn. I go to sit up to undress, but Christian, Sir, is back. There are no words, but he unhooks my bra, and I watch as he deftly unclips my stockings and slides my panties off me. Now that I'm completely naked, he lifts me again, and eases me into the bath. I allow myself to be washed, and time has no meaning. I don't know if I've been in here five minutes or forty five.

When it's time to get out, Sir Christian applies a balm to my poor sore behind. I vaguely register the product on the tube as arnica. He wraps me in a robe and leads me back to his bedroom. I curl up on the bed beside him. He drops a chaste kiss on my forehead and cuddles me close. I close my eyes, and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. Just five minutes and I'll get up and go to bed. Five minutes. My eyelids are so heavy. Honestly, five minutes and then I'll...

When I open my eyes, the sun is streaming in the window. I am swaddled in a comforter in 'my' room. Christian, Sir, is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. He splits a wide grin and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. I willingly return his embrace. Please, please let me keep my smart mouth to myself today.

"Good morning, Anastasia. Today we shall go to Esclava."

Esclava? I wonder. What's that?


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks AriadneinNaxos and Wattle for putting up with me, and LilithBlood, I hope I cleared up a few of your queries :)

Also, a big hairy(!) thank you for all who read. I appreciate your messages and thoughts.

* * *

Chapter 17

When I open my eyes, the sun is streaming in the window. We are lying on my bed, with the blanket spread over us. Christian, Sir, plants a gentle kiss on my lips. I willingly return his embrace. Please, please let me keep my smart mouth to myself today.

"Good morning, Anastasia. Today we shall go to Esclava."

"Esclava? What's that?" It's the Spanish word for 'slave', I know that much. "Sir?"

"It's a beauty spa." Oh, I see. "As my submissive, you'll keep your body as I desire it." He snakes his hand under the blanket and around my waist pulling me towards him. I feel his massive hard on pressing against my thigh. Well, good morning to you too S-I-R! I let out a snorty-giggle in embarrassment. I never got the whole joke about morning wood, and I'm sure I look at rough as muck.

"What is so funny?" He smirks at me.

"Um, I, um... your... arousal."

He flips the blanket back and there he is in all his majestic glory. "Yes, little Christian is rather magnificent, isn't he?" Ego much? Besides, little is not a word I'd used to describe that raging boner. I wonder if I'm allowed to stroke his 'ego'. I tentatively reach out towards him, but he restrains my arm, and wriggles up into a sitting position, and I follow suit, crossing my legs half-lotus style.

"Anastasia, can I ask you how you felt after last night?" I must look confused, because he clarifies, "It wasn't quite a scene last night, but as it was your first punishment you might want to talk it through."

"Oh, can I get to do that?" He nods. "Well, honestly, at the start I thought that you were just teasing me with your tally of the strikes," I use the dreaded air-quotes, " and that you weren't going to really punish me."

"Did you feel that I punished you unfairly?" His tone is genuine concern.

"Um, at first, I didn't think it was fair that I got punished for the things I did before I signed." My mind goes back to my fleeting outrage of the previous evening. "But you did count the infractions as I made them. Sir, if I had been giving that dinner conversation the consideration it deserved, I guess I would have realised that you were not just testing me."

He laces my hands in his, and repeats the original question. I can't believe the words that are coming out of my mouth. "No Sir, I don't think it was unfair. It was a lesson I hope that I will not forget." I recall how my punishment ended. "I really appreciated the way you took care of me afterwards. I think if you hadn't done that, I'd feel terrible this morning."

He gives a wry chuckle. "It was a very mild punishment in the grand scheme of things, and you probably won't forget it. However, consider what you have learned. Never assume that someone is making an idle threat." That's true. I'll know for again if Christian isn't messing with me. "And, Anastasia, I do not punish for the sake of it. There is always a reason behind it." Unlocking our fingers, I lay my hands, palms upturned, upon his. "Aftercare is very important. Whether there is sex or not, you must always know that I care for you and will look after you." I did feel cared for, and forgiven. Even as he was washing and massaging me last night I felt safe and secure, and I also knew that I was not holding any anger against him.

"That was mild?" He nods and I squirm on my butt. It's not sore now, but I felt it last night, that's for sure. "Can I use a safeword?"

"Not usually Anastasia. The point of a punishment is to teach a lesson, and as your Dom you trust me not to push you beyond your limits." I pause and reflect to myself. I felt terrible last night, but it's true, he did not take me beyond what I could bear. And I did not tell him to stop.

"What If we are in public?"

" I'll give you a warning. Generally it'll be a look, and you will know you are warned. Sometimes it might be a tug on your hair or a light tap on your wrist. Major punishments will wait until we are in private."

He takes my hands and kisses my palms. "Do you have any more questions this morning?" I have a hundred and one questions, but I don't want to ask him about everything all at once.

"What will happen at Esclava, and how come they open on a Sunday?"

"They open on a Sunday because I am a partner in the establishment." Well, he is handsome and groomed, but I never figured him for the metrosexual type. "I inform the therapist what is required, and she carries out my request. As your Dom I enjoy the acceptance that I have responsibility for you and that you have given yourself to me."

He leans in to kiss me, sealing the deal. I really have given myself to him. In some ways it's the easiest thing in the world, in others it is so difficult. My stomach gives a loud gurgle.

He breaks off the kiss. "Breakfast." I get out of bed and he gives me a playful smack on my backside, expediting my race to the shower. I check out my reflection in the mirror. Twisting and craning, I see that backside shows no evidence of the night before. I straighten up and appraise myself straight on. My pubes are kind of tidy, in a mother-nature kind of way, but I wonder how much more he'll want taken off. Having such a pile of thick hair on my head means that I've crazy hair everywhere. Hey, if he wants to pay for this, then I'm not arguing. As an impoverished student it wasn't top of my agenda. I wriggle my toes, and I hope that Christian likes dressy feet, I could use a pedicure.

* * *

Esclava isn't like what I imagined at all. I've never been in a place like this before. Other than my twice yearly haircut in Marge's, the little salon next door to Claytons, I haven't really bothered with personal grooming. Kate always despaired, but to me it seemed like so much... work. A few disposable razors and a quick scrape up my legs and down my armpits once a fortnight (once a week in the summer) was enough for me.

The reception area is white, silver and black. It puts me in mind of one of those fancy art galleries, or an upmarket dental surgery. A woman comes out from behind the reception desk. Her blonde hair is cut into a sharp bob that swishes slightly when she glides towards us. She's wearing a plain black tunic, but around her neck is a narrow black leather collar, closed with a silver padlock. I'm not sure if it means what I think it means, or whether it's just part of the uniform. The place is called Esclava, after all. Her tone is clipped and Germanic, as if she hasn't been living in the US very long. "Good morning Mr Grey. We have been expecting you." She doesn't even look at me, before she lowers her eyes from Christian's gaze.

"Good morning, Monika." He is all formality and business. "This is Anastasia. Can you please show her to the suite?"

"Of course, Sir." She finally gives me a cursory glance. "Follow me, Anastasia." We go down a short corridor, with doors on either side, each with a pattern engraved onto the door; some with a padlock, others with a key. At the end of the corridor there are two doors; we stop outside a one that has no decoration, and the other has both motifs on it. Monika opens the embellished door, and walks in, and motions for me to follow her. I look around. The room is plain white, with a single black pedestal in the centre of the room, and in the corner, a coatstand with one short white robe on the hook. "Undress and put on that gown. Fold your clothes and leave them at the door. I will be back." Charming. Maybe its just the accent. I thought at a spa you were meant to relax. "And stand on the dais." She points to the pedestal. "You need to be prepared for inspection." Inspection? I go to ask but before I form the words, Monika has left. She closed the door, but it doesn't click shut and it bounces open a crack. I do as I'm told, and as I go to put my clothes in the allotted spot beside the door. I hear noise in the hall, and my curiosity gets the better of me. Putting my eye to the sliver of light coming along the corridor I see another woman, another blonde bob, coming down the corridor, her heels clicking purposefully. Christian is following her, and his face is thunder. I move back a fraction from the door when she opens the door opposite mine. It swings wide and I can see it's an office. She click-claps in, followed by Christian who is radiating anger.

"I didn't expect to see you here Christian." Blonde bob purrs, as she touches his face, her red claws clashing against the soft auburn of his hair.

"Likewise, Elena." Christian moves away, and I can't see him now, but at least that, that woman has her hands off him now. I can't believe that I feel such jealousy. I got spanked last night for touching him without permission and there she is pawing him like he's a supermarket watermelon.

"When Monika called to tell me you were bringing in a new sub, I simply had to see her. " She sits down in a swivel chair, and twists from side to side. I'm aware of a video or somthing switched on in the room. "From what I see on the security cameras she is a scruffy little thing. Wherever did you find her?"

"None of your business, Elena." That's Christian's Dom CEO voice and finally his tone registers with this Elena person. "And I want Monika fired for her indiscretion."

"It's just that normally we find you someone together." Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick. This takes business partner to a whole new level, but I'm compelled to listen in.

"Elena, go home. This is none of your business today, or any day for that matter. And I want another therapist besides Monika." Good. I would have asked for someone else too.

I hear an over dramatic sigh and the click of her heels. The cougar is on the move. "Don't tell me you feel something for this little one, Christian. You know how destroyed you were after the last time you fell in love."

He cuts her off. "I was never in love." He snaps viciously.

"Christian, you and I are the same." Her purr is ominous. "There is no room for romantic relationships in our scene, and you have learned your lesson."

"That's where you are wrong, Elena. Stay out of my business. Stay away from Anastasia."

I'm aware that Christian is moving around the other room. "Well, Christian daaarrrlling, remember what happened the last time your little sub had a name." Oh, I have got to try and find out more. I wonder if it was the same person he mentioned last night at dinner. Part of me feels angry that this person knows so much about him, yet at the same time, I hate to think of his heart hurting. Even with our short relationship and our one-month 'assessment' contract, I know I'll be heartbroken if he calls it off.

"Fuck off Elena." I see his shadow crossing the threshold of the office door and I jump back from the door towards the pedestal. "I want you to send Meredith in to look after my Anastasia, now." He blazes up the corridor. "Don't even think about going in near her, Elena. I mean it." I can't see Elena's face but if I got an ass chewing like that I'd be in tears for a week. I learned last night I don't mess with my Dom Christian, but it's obvious you don't cross Dom CEO Christian either.

There is silence for what seems like ages, until I hear an exasperated sigh and a door slamming. There's no heels clicking back up the hall so I'm sure she's closed herself in the office.

Finally, there is a soft knock at the door and I jump up onto the pedestal. It's another young woman, maybe a year or two older than me. She's still blonde, still with a bob, still with a collar about her neck. She smiles, a warm genuine greeting that lights up her face. "Hi Anastasia, I'm Meredith. Don't worry about the pedestal or inspection, we'll just go next door so I can carry out Mr Grey's instructions." She takes my hand, and I allow myself to be led out the door, and in to the room next to us. Its soft lighting, flickering candles and relaxing music is more what I was expecting. There is a massage table, and a little trolley full of pots and unguents. "This is not normally what Mr Grey requires, Anastasia, but I hope that you enjoy your treatments." The aroma of essential oils fills the room. I hope I enjoy it too. And I hope I get a pedicure. I don't want to think about that conversation I overheard.

"Meredith?" I enquire, and she looks up at me expectantly. "What's the inspection about?"

"You are new to this, aren't you?" I nod. "Now, you just sit here, like this..." She motions that I lie on the bench, and eases my thighs apart. I flinch in embarrassment. "Oh, the inspection," she continues, "some Dominants like to survey and examine their property before and after treatments." I swallow. I know he's seen me naked, but I've never been appraised as a piece of meat. "Mr Grey said that he won't be doing that here today as you are inexperienced, and he wants to have some privacy with you." She is so different to the Monika person. Giving me a conspiratorial nudge and a wink, she whispers, "I know I shouldn't say, but you must be special to him." Wheeling the trolley towards me, she stirs the wax and using a wooden spatula, spreads some over my very untidy pubes. "Okay, Ansastasia, if you haven't waxed before, this might hurt a little." She presses down a piece of cotton over the melted wax. Hmmm, that didn't hurt. Owwwieee! I jump. That did!

Okay, if I thought a spanking was painful, it's nothing on a bikini wax! I look down and I have this neat little triangle now. 'Meredith?" She lies me down on the table, and gives a slight 'tut-tut' at my furry legs, and brushes her fingers against the hairs, causing me to jump and giggle. "Yes, Anastasia?" She is still smiling, so I forge ahead. I touch my now deforested bush. Am I being turned into clone 16? "Does Ch.. I mean, does Mr Grey like it like this?" She stops stirring the wax for my legs and cocks her head to one side. "Well, it's not really my place to say, but this is a little different to what he always requests." Well, at least I'm not a 'normal request. That makes me relax a little bit. She resumes her stirring and then smears a line of warm wax down my shin. "Nearly finished with the painful parts, Anastasia. By the time we have finished the nice treatments, you'll have lost the plucked chicken look, and you'll be ready for display for Mr Grey." I think back to the little podium next door. Is it wrong of me to get hot at the idea of Christian checking me out?

"What are the nice treatments?" Meredith rips the strip of cotton away and I wince. I don't think I'll ever get used to this.

"Oh, after this you'll have a manicure, a pedicure, and we'll get your hair cut and styled by Issac." Reflexively I touch my ponytail. "Just a trim and shape." She assures me. "Mr Grey was very insistent about keeping the length."

"Can I trust this Issac person?" I mean, it's not Marge, and crazy and all as my hair is, it's the only head I've got. "Has he worked here long?"

Meredith once again does her best to put me at ease. She has the most reassuring manner compared to Monika. "Issac is Elena's boy, but with him, hair comes first, even if it means a punishment." Elena's boy? Punishment? Fuck. 'Is Elena a Domme?' Meredith looks at me like I've just stated that the world is round, but says nothing. I close my eyes, and hide my face behind my hands. I can't believe I just said that out loud. I'm glad Christian isn't here because asking such a personal question about Taylor last night got me a reddened ass. I peek out from between my fingers, and the light catches on Meredith's collar, the metal dancing in the hollow of her neck. I want to ask another question but don't, and silently congratulate myself for keeping my smart mouth shut for once. Neither of us speaks for what seems like an eternity, only the ripping of the cloth tearing through the low music in the background. Finally, it's over. Meredith fetches a blanket from a press, and covers me. It's warm and the weight feels lovely, cocooning me. She dims the lights, and the candles lick their golden flames and shadows around the room. "Take a short nap and relax. I'll be back shortly."

I finally trust myself to relax. From thinking that I was one of a small group of people, there is something comforting about knowing that I'm not alone. Normal rules of society take on a new meaning though, and I really am going to have to learn how to behave. I allow myself an in-grin. I hope that I can behave appropriately for Christian - Sir - when he comes to collect me again.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks Wattle and AriadneinNaxos :)

Chapter 18

I waken from my doze, but am still too relaxed to open my eyes. Where am I? Oh yeah, Esclava. The day spa.

I'm aware of the door opening and soft footsteps padding across the room mingled with the wheels of a trolley clicking intermittently over the tiles. The music rises slightly in volume and I conscious that the lights are a bit brighter. I manage a stretch and blink a few times, adapting to the stimuli. Meredith is back.

"Mmmmhhh, how long was I asleep?"

"Only about an hour." An hour? I felt like I'd slept all night. So what time does that make it? Let me see, came here at 10am, must be around 12. I unwrap my arm from underneath the cosy blanket and check my watch. 11.45.

I wriggle up to a sitting position and peer under the blanket. Ohhhhh, naked! From this angle it looks like I have a small neat little topiary of hair, rather than the crazy forest that was growing there. Meredith wheels the trolley over to me, and uncovers it. Salad, fresh fruit, yogurt and some nuts and seeds. "Mr Grey requests that you have something to eat." My stomach suddenly realises that I'm hungry. I don't complain and I enjoy the food. As I tidy up the dishes I see a flash of red and I grin from ear to ear. A twizzler! Meredith is at the work bench, preparing a tray of... stuff. I can't see what she's doing but I hear the occasional clink of glass and chime of metal as it falls on to her metal tray.

I'm finished my meal when she comes back over to me. She rearranges the bed so that I'm slightly reclined. She settles herself on a wheeled dentist stool. I find myself getting excited at whatever is coming next.

She flips up a little arm rest from the side of the bed, and I automatically put my arm down. A manicure? I ask as much. "Yes, Mr Grey would like your nails in a natural French." She takes a little bowl of water and I rest my hand in it.

"What's a natural French, Meredith?" I mean, even I know what a French manicure is, but a natural one is news to me.

"The tips are still white, but the line isn't quite so delineated, and the pink is a softer peachy colour. It's really pretty," she assures me. I lie back and close my eyes again. Now this is an aspect of submission I could get used to, although I can't imagine spending an entire day here regularly. I wonder if this comes out of Christian time or my time, and make a mental note to check that out with him.

Meredith is just finishing off my nails when there's a knock at the door. Isaac comes in, his quiet demeanour at odds with his tall broad frame. "Good afternoon ladies." I smile an hello. "Meredith, you are an artist." He studies her work, and I can only nod in agreement "And, Anastasia, it's a pleasure to meet you." I ask him if he can just call me Ana. Smiling, he takes a few strands of hair between his forefinger and middle finger. "You have amazing hair, Ana. Very healthy. Well, let's see if we can make Mr Grey happy." He offers me his hand and I swing my legs over the side of bed, taking the blankets with me. He helps me into a snugly robe and I shuffle to the sink. This is the most worrying part for me, I like having long hair, but his expert hands give me an amazing head massage and I relax again.

"You won't cut off too much, will you?" I'm sitting in the chair, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "Mr Grey was quite insistent that we keep length, but I will thin it out a bit."

Isaac isn't what I thought a male sub would look like at all. He's about 26, and in great shape. He's a different build to Christian, a little more obvious muscle I guess. He does have a collar around his neck and he has a wrist tattoo that looks like a chain. On the inside of his wrist a closed padlock is tattooed, closing the 'chain'. I guess on someone as big as him it looks more rock star than anything else, and I wonder if it is a symbol of submission. He has hair that reminds me of Barney, but whereas Barney's can only be described as naturally lively, Isaac's is much more styled. He's also a lot more reserved, but I get the feeling he is like this with everyone.

We chat about nothing in general, through the mirror, rather than face-to-face. As he's blow drying my hair, it's too noisy to chat, and I'm happy to stare off into nothing. I look over his shoulder reflection and I see the door opening, and there she comes, the click clack of those red heels on the tiles easily heard over the whirr of the dryer. That witch. Isaac does not look happy, and I recall what Meredith said _"Isaac is Elena's boy, but with him, hair comes first, even if it means a punishment." _I can't have that on my conscience. I pat his hand in some kind of reassuring gesture, but I'm not sure it means anything to him. She comes up behind me and looks at me through the reflection in the mirror. I'm furious, but I can't say why. I know that Christian, my Dom, told her not to come near me, but I can't admit I was eavesdropping. I hold the stare, and grit my teeth. It gives my jaw a defiant edge in the mirror, 'Go for it Steele, you aren't her sub.'

She sniffs the air around me. Isaac's voice is firm, but still respectful. "Mistress..." She ignores him.

"Well, you look passable now, but with that little girly face, even 16 year old Christian wouldn't have found you attractive." What would she know about 16 year old Christian?

I find my inner courage and spin my chair towards her. "I should hope not. When Christian was 16 I would have been 9 and that would have been most inappropriate, don't you think?" I turn the chair back around and pick up a bottle of the finishing smoothing glossing serum gel spray. I've no idea what it is, but it's obviously fascinating to me. I'm not going to engage with her. She hisses, "You'll never be enough for him," tuts and leaves.

I look down at the bottle of goo and see that my hands are shaking. Who does she think she is? I look up to Isaac, who has paled, and looks at the closed door.

"I hope I haven't got you in trouble, Isaac", I whisper.

"Ana, don't you worry about me." Then, the padlocked elephant in the room; he makes a 'C' shape with his thumb and forefinger. "Consent." He puts the finishing touches to my hair and Meredith takes me back into the other room with the dais. There's an outfit laid out for me to wear.

"Come, let me help you get dressed." I breathe a sigh of relief, or is it disappointment? He's not going to inspect me. I sort of wished that he had. There's something that really gets me going about submitting to him in that way. There's a bra, stockings and a fifties style day dress, in an innocent pastel blue, nipped in waist and a full skirt. The length is demure, but the shape is so sexy. I look around for panties. Meredith shakes her head. "Mr Grey said they were not to his requirements." I look at the name on the insole of the light blue heels that are waiting for me. Celine.

When I'm dressed, Meredith pulls back a screen and lets me check my reflection. I look like me, but me in HD. I'm groomed without being over styled, the dress demure but not prissy, and the heels are sexy but not slutty.

I'm really annoyed about Elena, but how do I broach the subject? I know that she was told not to come near me, so I can't ask about this '16 year old Christian'. Also, it seems like they have known each other for ages. Well. It's over for now, and I'll park it for a few days.

I walk slowly up the corridor, and nerves actually start to get the better of me. The first person I see is the blonde head of Monika at her reception post. Then, I see him. Christian is there, tapping away on his macbook. When he looks over to me, he closes the computer, uncrosses his legs, and in slow motion, or at least it seems like it, comes over and takes my arm. "Anastasia." He gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek. Giving the curtest of nods to Monika, we walk out of Esclava. Taylor is there. He opens the door and Christian helps me in. Although the dress is knee length, when I sit down, I feel the soft leather against my behind.

The car starts and I look down at my pretty nails. Christian takes my hand and kisses the palm. He holds my hand, now circling the inside of my wrist with his thumb. He's barely touching the skin but I'm tingling against the light caress, my other senses fading into insignificance. I'm brought back into the here and now with a jolt. His voice is all but a growl against the shell of my ear, "Anastasia, I cannot wait to get you into my playroom so that I can inspect my property." I gasp in shock and anticipation, and think back to the dais in the dressing room. 'Be careful what you wish for, Ana Steele!'

* * *

So, ladies? Do you want to read the next installment sooner rather than later?


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you for reading. The question at the end of the last chapter was as a joke, and I can't believe how many of you responded. I'm humbled that so many people read my take on FSOG. Thank you! And a big thank you to the intelligent ladies who keep me right. If I were a hugger, I'd hug you :)

* * *

Chapter 19

The drive to Escala now seems interminable, but I'm sure it's only going to be a matter of minutes. Taylor is driving, and part of me wants to die of embarrassment, but then I realise that (a) he has seen all this before and (b) I'm not ashamed of who I am, or what I am learning about myself.

He continues to hold my hand, nipping at my earlobe and neck. I give a small moan of pleasure and turn to try and kiss him back. He gives me a gentle nip on my lips and stops. I must have whined because he presses down a little firmer on my wrist. "All your pleasure is mine to control, Anastasia, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"When I want to cherish my sub, I will do so. When I want to kiss you, I will do so." He waits for a response.

"Yes, Sir." I make a mental note to try not to throw myself at him in all his sexy glory.

"And, Anastasia, I am looking forward to cherishing and inspecting my property." I bite my lip. I know if Christian touches me now, my arousal is going to be evident at the mention of the word 'inspection.' The low growl is back, "Do. Not. Bite. That. Lip." His thumb brushes over my trapped lip, and it's all I can do not to kiss his hand. I release, and he gives me a smile and a caress on the cheek. "Good girl."

His hand moves from my wrist to my nape, and he gently strokes the back of my neck, curtained by my hair. I cannot believe how much his touch is sending me into overdrive, yet he hasn't even approached anywhere intimate yet. "Do you understand what an inspection is, Anastasia?"

I swallow nervously. Bits and pieces of what I have read online fly through my mind, my synapses trying to make the connections again. "I think so, Sir," I whisper.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little." Fuck, a little is an understatement. What if I do not pass muster? Will I be punished? Or, even better, what if I do?

"Good. A little nerves are fine. It helps get you into the frame of mind."

I have to ask. "Sir, may I ask a question?" With his nod, I continue, "What if I do not pass your inspection, will I be punished?" I still remember the previous spanking. At least I know now that Christian does not have idle threats. That was a lesson my behind isn't going to forget.

He chuckles. "If Meredith has done her job, you will find out soon enough. But, no, tonight you will not be punished if your presentation is less-than-adequate. However," he arches a brow, "when you know what is expected of you, you will most certainly be chastised if my property is not kept to my standards."

I drop my head. I know I am blushing. Not at the idea of the activity, but I'm a little ashamed as to how aroused it makes me. His fingers move from my nape and twist around my hair, pulling my head back up again. He angles himself so that he is facing me. "Never, never be embarrassed, Anastasia." Those silver grey eyes look deep into my soul. "You have an amazing gift, and I'm proud to be part of it. Do you understand?" When I don't answer, still too drawn into those all-knowing eyes, he gives my hair a gentle tug, bringing me back into the real world. Ratfart. Daydreaming again.

"Yes, Sir. I understand." The title 'Sir' shouldn't trip so easily off my lips, but this feels natural.

"Good." He takes my hand once more.

Taylor drives down into the garage, the change in from natural to artificial lighting temporarily disorientating me. Parking, Taylor comes around and opens Christian's door for him. Christian does not let go of my hand, and helps me out of the car. The dress swishes back down over my legs, and I look into the car to see a little spot of moisture on the leather seat. Following my line of sight, Christian looks to the back seat as well, and smirks. I pout, and he smacks me lightly on the backside with his free hand. "No pouting, Anastasia. It's not becoming for a prize such as you."

The ride up in the elevator is at once ridiculously long and scarily short. Entering the apartment, Christian motions for me to sit. "You know where the playroom is Anastasia. I shall meet you there in ten minutes exactly. You are not to change anything about yourself . When you come in, you will stand in the centre of the room with your body facing towards the mirror. In the meantime you may freshen up." He turns and walks away from me and up the stairs to the playroom.

I walk in, and the lights are subdued, but not dark. Christian is sprawled over the sofa swirling a glass of whisky. He doesn't make eye contact with me.

In the centre of the room a small platform has been set up, and when I go to stand and face the double-wide full length mirror, and look at my reflection, I can see Christian behind me, now staring at me intently. He takes a sip of whiskey.

"Who are you Anastasia? Are you my property?" His voice has taken on a different quality; I know it now as his Dom voice.

"Yes Sir." I take a deep breath and try to suppress my smile. This is all so different, and so arousing.

"Turn and face me, and look at me." I do as I'm told. I look at his faded blue jeans and the white linen shirt, the top two are buttons undone, and the sleeves are rolled up a turn. Fuck me, he is so sexy there. He's owning that sofa, owning the room. Owning me.

"Do you consent?"

Oh boy, do I ever! "I do, Sir."

He makes a twirling motion with his fingers. "Face the mirror again."

"Part your legs slightly. No more than hip width." I inch my legs apart. "Bend over and touch your toes." I know that with this position the hem of my dress will have raised. He will be able to see my stocking tops, my bare bottom, and possibly my newly nude labia.

There is a pause and I hear him padding up behind me. His hands brush over my backside and I feel a finger enter me. He trails his finger back and forward over my labia.

"You are aroused Anastasia. Good." I don't know what to say._ I know, Sir, it's the effect you have on me_? He moves back to his seat, and I hear the leather of the sofa give a gentle squish as he sits down. "Straighten up and face me now".

I turn around again. To be so vulnerable with these orders, yet to know that he is appraising and appreciating me, plain old Ana Steele is beyond erotic. "Undo your dress. I reach around and unzip the dress, hoping that I don't look too awkward and it falls to the floor. I gracefully step out of it; I don't need to trip now.

"Turn for me again. Now undo your bra and as you do so, look in the mirror. Look at your body."

He sets the whiskey down and comes back over to me. He offers me his hand and I step down from the platform. His height dwarfs me again. "Arms up." He checks my armpits, he runs his fingers though my hair, cups and squeezes my breasts.

"Lie on the bed." He taps my leg indicating that he wants me to open my legs. "Wider. Good." He examines my newly waxed pudenda and labia. "Feel yourself Anastasia. This is how smooth and bare you should be for your Master." I lightly skim my fingers over the newly waxed skin. It feels different. I'm not sure if I like it or not yet, but I suppose I don't have a choice.

"On your hands and knees." He pulls my hips and pushes my knees until he is happy with my pose. "This is how you will present when I want you on your hands and knees." I glance in the mirror. Suddenly, he runs his finger down the crack of my butt. I jump. He tuts and slaps my bottom so slightly. "I'm not going to indulge in anal play tonight, but I am preparing my property for the next time."

"Yes, Sir."

He motions that I should stand up. When I do, he deftly braids my hair into a single plait at the back. Not letting go of my new hairstyle, he guides me again to the front of the mirror. "Kneel." When I do, he releases my plait. "Unless otherwise told, this is the position you will accept in the playroom." I look in the mirror and see my exposed sex.

"Yes, Sir. I shall assume this position."

"I hear him moving around the room, opening and closing drawers." He stands me up and buckles leather cuffs around my wrists. Linking them together, he guides my hands above my head and attaches them to a hook in the ceiling. How did I miss that before? My eyes widen when he shows me the flogger.

"Today is all about pleasure, Anastasia. You may come freely." He drags it lightly over my shoulders, my breasts, and my ass, then starts to alternate slightly heavier strokes with the barely-there fronds brushing over my body. I can barely contain myself as I watch him moving around me, each touch increasing my arousal and my skin's sensitivity. I am tied, naked, completely at his mercy, but I am happy. That dark glint in his eyes lets me know he is enjoying this as much as I am. He unbuttons his jeans fall to the floor and he picks me up, impaling himself on me. He has just picked me up as if I weigh nothing. I curl my legs around him and he reaches up and undoes the clip holding my wrists in place, my cuffed wrists fall around his neck and shoulders. Joined as one he walks slowly to the bed.

"Lift your arms." When I do, he lays me down on the bed whilst he is still standing. He thrusts in and out, slowly at first. My hands are still above my head. I know if I move them it will spoil his view of my breasts and arched back. _Ana Steele, you dirty girl_. With each thrust, I feel myself build with tension. Women can't come from plain old intercourse, can they? There's nothing plain and old about this, as I find myself coiling up with every strike. Taking one hand off my hip, he presses his thumb against my magic joy button. Ohhhh fuck me. I cry out as I come. In all my own self-indulgences I have never come like this and my body is shaking as I ride out my orgasm.

Christian, Sir, quickly reaches up and undoes my cuffs, and scoots me up on the bed a little. Wrapping a blanket around me I hear Him pottering about, and he comes back with a glass of water. "Drink. You'll need this." He crawls in beside me for a moment and freeing the plait He threads his fingers through my hair. "Rest up, Cherished Girl."

I am a submissive. I am cherished.


	20. Chapter 20

Hello, thank you for reading and thank you to Wattle, AriadneinNaxos and GCon76.

* * *

Chapter 20

I wake up and I'm in my own room. My sub-room. I hear the tap-tap-tap of Christian's keyboard and I raise myself up onto my elbow and smile over to him. He looks up from the screen, and closes over the laptop. "Good evening, Sleepyhead." Fuck! Evening!

"Christian I need to get home and get ready for work in the morning." I throw back the covers and run for the bathroom. I need a shower.

He intercepts me and holds me by my shoulders. "Stop panicking. One, it isn't becoming in my sub, and two, I will take you home." Those grey eyes stare deep into me, and I find them irresistible. I want to be held in his hands forever, but I pull every ounce of self control I have into one, giant, well, medium, ok, miniscule blob of resistance.

"No, no, I'll call a cab. One, I don't need you to hear Kate's interrogation, and two, I don't want staff at Grey House whispering that I'm a newbie and taking liberties by being seen out and about with the boss." It's unlikely any of them will know, but even I've worked out that Christian Grey's private life is media fodder. Sunday evenings in Seattle are a bit livelier than the mornings, and besides, it was Taylor that was driving earlier when we went to Esclava.

"Interrogation?" Christian pauses. He releases his grip but cups my shoulders instead. "Has anyone been giving you a hard time in GEH?" I think back to Elena, but that's not work.

"No, no. I just don't want to attract attention to myself, or us, especially now that you are giving me the additional opportunity at SIP." Ugh, and Jack Hyde. It'd be so easy to tell Christian that Hyde's the sleazy creep who interviewed me. I need, no I want to try and make it on my own. With Christian, this Dom/sub contract might only last a month, my career lasts a lifetime.

He eyes me suspiciously as if he doesn't believe me. "You know as my girl, I am responsible for you. If someone is annoying you, you must let me know." I try not to smile or read into the fact that he called me his girl. "And Anastasia, I always expect the truth, and I WILL be taking you home."

"Yes, Sir." Now it's his turn not to try and smile. It's obvious how much he likes that title, and I really enjoy seeing his reaction to me. "Now, I really need a shower, Sir." He releases me and I hop in under the water.

When I am ready to get out, he's standing there with a bath sheet, and he swaddles me before I get much of a chance to protest. "Sir, I can dry myself!" I can't really wriggle in my towelling cocoon.

"I know that, but you are still with me and I want to dry you." Holding the edges of the towel he guides me forward and I shuffle into the bedroom. "Mmmmm, Anastasia, you do make a very sexy prisoner all wrapped up like this. I wish I could keep you here day and night." _Oh Sir, you and I both!_ Not releasing the towel he pulls me into a long demanding kiss that leaves me breathless. It's going to be a while before I forget that.

Finally focussing I look around. "Where are my jeans and sweater?" I loved the dress and shoes from earlier today, but that's entirely inappropriate for plain old Ana Steele.

"Mrs Jones laundered them for you." He opens the closet and lifts them off the shelf. They are incongruous amongst the rails of dresses and skirts. I hadn't opened the wardrobe before and I'm lost for words. Christian reads my mind. "As per the agreement, you will wear clothes of my choosing during our time together." I reach out and touch the fabric of an amazing purple dress that has caught my eye. It flows over my fingers like a silky waterfall, the violet threads catching the light, diffusing into a symphony of colours. "You may wear that one for our dinner date on Thursday evening."

Fuck, I hope it fits. "Thank you, Sir." He nods at my graceful acceptance.

* * *

When we arrive back at my apartment, Legally Blonde is on the TV. Elliott and Kate are lying on top of each other, a tangle of half dressed bodies. There is a half-eaten pizza on the table accompanied by two drained wine bottles and a melty tub of Ben and Jerry's. I smirk at the flavour. _Vanilla like it oughta be._

Elliott cranes his head and gives Christian an 'hey bro!' as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be lying in a weekend's worth of food wearing the daughter of a media mogul as a blanket. I guess this is Elliott's normal. It's not the first time I've seen Kate with a just-fucked look, but these two look like they are made for each other. Kate unravels herself from her boyfriend, and, stepping over the empty glass of wine on the floor comes over and gives me a hug. Elliott stretches out, stands up and punches Christian lightly on the shoulder but that's it. I just noticed that Elliott barely touched him and I flash back to the night we met his parents; a formal kiss on the cheek from his mother, and a handshake from this father. I was closer to him that that, although my touching was through clothing.

"So, what did you two crazy kids get up to?" Elliott's shit eating grin is infectious but I can't look at him. What can I say? "Anyway bro, I was drinking all weekend, any chance of a ride to my place?"

"Fuck off Elliott." The words don't sound as harsh as they should, and they are met with a chuckle from Grey the Elder. Christian says his goodbyes to me with a simple kiss on the lips. That doesn't bother me really, my mind is still addled and lips are still branded from his last embrace.

Elliott and Kate explore each other's tonsils until Kate finally comes up for air. In a reflection of his earlier punch to Christian, he gives me a gentle blow to the shoulder. "Laters ladies." Kate and I look at each other and giggle. For a second we are eighteen again, thinking of the first time Jose came around to our dorm room to say hello.

* * *

Kate runs her fingers through my hair. "You look hot, Ana Banana!" She motions with her hand. "Give me a twirl and let me see your swishy new style." I think back to a few hours ago, and Christian, the barest glimpse of a smile crossing my face. I indulge Kate with a pirouette. "You really do look amazing Ana, tell me all about your weekend."

"Argh, what's to tell, Kate?" The spectre of the smut on my laptop, the NDA and the very non-vanilla sex fills my mind. "I probably did the same as you."

She folds her arms. "You are dating Christian Fucking Grey. I very much doubt it that you had a weekend like mine." She waves her arms around at the detritus of the weekend.

"If you mean dinner, sex and TV, well, two out of those three." Okay, so it wasn't pizza and ice-cream, and a fumble on the sofa, but I don't want to tell Kate about my true feelings.

"I'll leave it for now, Steele." She gives me a wink. "The TV was shit over the weekend anyway."

"Thanks, Kate." I really am grateful she doesn't push me further. "Now, c'mon, I'll help you clean up." Putting out the recycling has to be the most normal thing I have done all weekend. Finally, I get ready to crawl into my own bed, and I see my laptop on the bedside cabinet. I can't help but smile to myself again. The digital contents of my laptop have nothing on the experiences that are currently being relived in my mind.

* * *

Christian's POV

I get up on Monday morning, work out, shower, and Taylor drives me to the office. I never cease to have a hard on when I come through the doors of my building. The staff greet me with a formal 'Mr Grey', and I fucking love it. I am boss here. They know it. I know it. I fucking earned it. I work hard, and I'm aware that I expect my employees to work hard too. I pay them well, and none of them are slaves. They have chosen to work for me, and retention of the best staff is important. I get into my private elevator and set the speed for slow. I want time to think before I reach the throne room of my kingdom.

My erection has been nearly a permanent feature since I met Anastasia Steele. I had one of the best weekends of my adult life with her. It was a learning curve for me too; I've never had an inexperienced sub before. I've never tolerated bratty behaviour, and I don't get off on subs topping from the bottom. I know that Anastasia has read a little on the lifestyle, but the sensation of a mild punishment spanking shocked her. Her attitude for the rest of the weekend was perfect, and when that sweet 'Sir' drops from her lips, I want to simultaneously fuck her senseless and worship her body with my teeth and tongue.

The only sour point of the weekend was when I took her to Esclava. Monika was downright rude, and Elena just pissed me off. Since I stopped subbing for her at 21, she has had an active role in finding me suitable playmates. Some of relationships were purely functional; we fulfilled each other's needs, and some I was genuinely fond of. Reflecting on Elena's mouthiness to another Dominant, I am convinced that she is not best pleased that she was not involved in the choice. Fuck her. Anastasia wasn't part of a selection process. I'm glad that I didn't introduce her to Elena. It's early days for us, and we have a lot of trust to still build up with one another. Thank fuck Elliott didn't press too much. The man whore already assumed I was gay. Just because I haven't screwed half the dumb blondes of the Pacific Northwest doesn't mean I'm an asexual freak.

Seeing Anastasia in my playroom, submitting to me so willingly, gracefully and daintily was the high point of my weekend. To be able to sit back and revel in her curves, her beauty, her obedience, that small smile when she knew she pleased me. I love the control that I get from being a Dominant. Her soft mewls of pleasure when the flogger slapped on her skin are two of my favourite sounds. Fuck, I want to make a playroom out of her office, so that I could take her any time I wanted.

The elevator pings open and I clear my mind. If I cannot control myself, I cannot control others. Roz is waiting in the lobby outside my office. I open the door and walk in. She follows me. "Good morning Roz. How was your weekend?"

"Good morning, Sir. It was good, thank you. And yours?" Roz is one of my closest acquaintances but even she knows when formality is required.

I split an uncharacteristic grin. "It was great, Roz."

"Glad to hear it, Christian." She gives me a genuine smile. "I haven't seen you like this in a long time." I frown but she is right. I haven't been this happy in a year. "Anyway, I'm here to discuss the working pattern of the object of your affection." There is no malice in her words; it's just Roz's way of separating business and pleasure.

"I was thinking Mondays and Fridays here, with Anastasia Steele working in SIP the other days." If I know she's in the building, at least then I know she is near me four days a week. "Do you see a problem with that?"

"No, Christian, there is no problems that I can envisage. SIP is in need of modernisation and a bit of a staff shake-up. We are expected to get access to the Human Resources records this week. I know that Miss Steele is quite determined when it comes to her nascent career, and with the right guidance I am sure that she will succeed." As part of our contract, I have agreed that I will not put my personal needs before her career, but that isn't going to stop me from making sure that she is safe and happy there, as her boss and as her boyfriend.

"Great, Roz. Thank you." I look at my watch. 8.00 am. Time to check the world and see how GEH International fared over the weekend, and time to stop smiling over my weekend with Anastasia Steele.

* * *

Ana's POV

It's Monday again, and there's the familiar little rap on the architrave of my open door. It's Barney. It looks like I wasn't the only person that had a haircut at the weekend. His bonce isn't much tidier, but it's shorter, and all it manages to do is give him a much tuftier look. "Hey Ana!" He points to his hair, "Looks like both you and I had an Esclava special over the weekend." Esclava? I manage an impression of a goldfish as I try to form words. Is he? Could he be? "Hey, don't panic, Ana. It's okay. I know that Mr Grey is an owner in Esclava. We get a staff discount." He winks at me. "I've told you, before, you are safe with Mr Grey, you are safe with us."

I change the subject. "So, what else did you do?" I hope that the 'else' is something normal like pizza, TV and iceream.

"Oh, not much, Ana. We went to a club." I've never been one for clubs.

"Was it one of those places with a different theme on every floor?"

He smirks at me. "Kind of." I want to ask the question, but I'm still mindful of my spanking. Is there a kinky elephant in the room or not? I know that people joke about 'gaydar' but do kinksters have 'k-dar'? Are Barney and I gravitating to one another as friends because of our natural inclinations? But, the phone rings. Saved by the bell. I think. It's Roz and she wants to see Barney and myself.

Up in her office, Roz is the epitome of chic. If I looked polished and groomed after a day in Esclava, Roz looks like she starts every day there. I'll never be able to look so professional. Mind you, I look to the zany scruffy Barney. He has made it without being coiffed to perfection, but then he is more a behind the scenes person.

Roz explains that I'll be working in Seattle Independent Publishing three days a week - Tuesdays Wednesdays Thursdays. Clever Christian. If I have to stay overnight with him on either side of the weekend, nobody in GEH is going to know. I'm all right with that. I've seen the coverage that he gets in the press and online, and I don't want to be a part of that world. I have just realised that Christian isn't just protecting his own private lifestyle, he's protecting his subs too. I feel a little odd that I'm not going to be in the same building as Christian every day any more.

* * *

Tuesday brings my first day in Seattle Independent Publishing. SIP is a place that I had previously been interested in working. But, I didn't take the job because on a whim in a car park, I accepted Grey Enterprises Holdings. To be honest, it's with mixed emotions that I step through the glass doors. Two weeks before I interviewed Christian, I'd been here for an interview with Elizabeth Morgan and Jack Hyde. She seemed all right, but he was totally creepy. I just couldn't put my finger on it. I put that interview to the back of my mind. I probably won't see too much of him anyway.

Elizabeth meets me at reception. "Welcome Ana." Her handshake is warm. "I remember you from the interview, but you decided to go elsewhere."

"Yes, I went to GEH, as I had a great opportunity there to catalogue some books for a library literacy project." The project is true, the reason I went there, a little different. I continue with my explanation, "And now as SIP is now a holding in GEH, I'm being given the opportunity to get a foundation in publishing too."

Elizabeth nods. "To be honest, this is a great place to work, but I am looking forward to the innovation and motivation someone with Christian Grey's leadership will bring." She looks toward the pudgy Jack Hyde walking towards us. "Although not everyone will be happy."

He waddles up to Elizabeth and myself. "Good morning Ana." He offers me his hand and I shake it. Or rather, I try to shake it, but it's limp and clammy. Suddenly he grabs it firmly, as if remembering what a handshake is. I manage a weak smile and an hello. "Elizabeth, I can take it over from here." Elizabeth nods. "Ana, come with me." I try not to roll my eyes at his bossy short-man syndrome, and look to Elizabeth. "It'll be okay," she mouths. I don't know if she's right.

I follow him up to a small suite of offices, with piles and piles of half-bound manuscripts and loose leaves of paper sitting everywhere. Most of these books will never make it to print, but aspiring authors should still assume that their work is respected by a publisher, even if the product is ultimately rejected. "You will work in here." He pushes a door open and it's a dusty office with a desk, chair and a computer so old, the plastic casing of the monitor is yellowing and covered in old notes stuck with crumbling sticky tape. Ugh. I tiptoe over the scrunched up balls of paper on the floor, no doubt the blood, sweat and tears of an aspiring writer. I suppose I could always clean it. Jack stands by the grimy window, so that all I see is his silhouette. "So, Ana. You are now an intern in GEH?" I nod in his direction. I can't see his face, and I know this is a power play on his part. "What's it like being one of Grey's subs?"

What the fuck? I compose myself quickly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Subordinates." Jack crosses his arms. "Grey runs a tight ship. Bit of a hard ass, I hear. Does he crack that whip?"

Hyde doesn't have a clue what he's talking about. Oh fuck. What if he does? "I have found _Mister_ Grey to be a very fair boss, although he is not involved in my day-to-day management."

He stalks over to me and leans on the desk, his saggy ass causing the ancient workstation to creak in agony. "I am looking forward to managing you closely, Miss Steele." My skin metaphorically crawls out the door and quivers in the corner.

"Can you excuse me please? I need to use the bathroom." I stumble out of the room, and run to the toilet. In the stall, I bring out my phone. Should I call Christian? I'm stumped. I want to make it on my own. What about all those other poor interns who are being intimidated by Jack Hydes up and down the country. They have to find a way through this, and so do I. What would someone who wasn't dating a Dominant millionaire do?

I scroll through the numbers. "Hi Ana, how's things in the world of publishing?" I shudder thinking of my own personal hell of the publishing world.

"D'you want to meet for a sandwich?"

"Is everything okay?" The concern was evident in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, just need to sound off. I'll meet you at 1pm, that little place on Pike and 5th okay for you?"

"See you then, Ana. Although if the Boss sees me, he'll want a full report."

"Barney, wear your 'invisibility cloak' then." With a chuckle from my geeky buddy, the call ends.

I get ready to leave the bathroom when my phone rings, making me jump. I look at the name. Christian. Fuck. Was he listening in?


	21. Chapter 21

thank you Ariadne, Wattle, and everyone for reading. I really appreciate it.

* * *

Chapter 21

I look at my phone like it's a ticking time bomb. _ Breathe, Steele. It's only a call_.

"Hello Sir." My voice is squeaky and unnaturally high.

"Good afternoon Anastasia." His voice is a rich baritone, an aural contrast to my own warble.

"Why did you call?" I can't help but wonder if he is tracking my phone. I don't know if his desire to control extends to that activity.

I'm met by silence, and I yield with a 'Sir?'

"I called because I can. One, you are a member of my staff. Two, and more importantly, you are my submissive and I wish to make sure that you are well. I told you that I look after my girl." There is the hint of a pause. "Now, Anastasia, how are you settling in to your post at Seattle Independent Publishing, soon to be Grey Publishing?" As I mentally fumble and stumble for an answer, his voice clips through the speaker, "And I always expect the truth. You understand that lies will have consequences."

_Well, my female boss seems to be normal, my male boss is a sleazy creep who makes me want to throw up my breakfast. Oh, and the office equipment is so ancient that I'm pretty sure some artist will commandeer it for a retro installation. _

"Um, yeah, it's fine... I guess."

"You guess? What sort of answer is that Anastasia?"

"No, it's fine – just a little different to GEH is all." Again the silence is deafening, a void that I feel compelled to fill. "The equipment is a little out of date, and it's a little more..." I struggle for a polite word for pigsty, "disorganised than GEH."

"I see. Anything else?"

I swallow, and whilst it's not a lie, I am dancing on a pin head as regards the truth. I have to learn how to handle Jack Hyde myself. "No Sir."

"Very well, Anastasia, I shall send Taylor to collect you from your apartment for our dinner date on Thursday evening. I shall leave the dress I expect you to wear in your room. Goodbye, Anastasia,"

I nod even though he can't see me, and roll my eyes at my own reflex action. It's not a video phone. "Goodbye, Sir."

I splash some water on my face and take a few deep breaths. I wish that Christian Grey was just a normal boyfriend and Dom, a guy who could listen to me about creepy Jack Hyde, reassure me that it's all going to be ok. Maybe if we were together for longer, I'd feel more secure. I don't want to be the little woman who runs to the boss every time things aren't going her way. I jump when my phone beeps again with a text message alert. It's Barney telling me that he'll be here in an hour.

In the meantime I go back to my cell, I mean my office. Jack is behind his desk again, his feet propped up on the table as he barks orders into the phone. Hanging up, he motions to me. "Fetch me a coffee, Darling. And when you are out on your lunch, honey, you can pick me up a sandwich." He flaps a $5 bill at me. My eyes nearly pop out of my head at his behaviour. What a prize tool.

"Mr Hyde, you may call me Miss Steele, or Ana, if you prefer, but you may not call me honey, darling or any other presumed term of endearment." I pick up the offending $5 note and slip it into an envelope, lest I pick up some creepy DNA from him. "I am meeting a friend for lunch today, and I am happy to pick you up a sandwich, but please do not expect me to be your personal message-girl. I am here to learn, not to serve." Yeah, and you better believe it Hyde, I know my rights and I'm not going to be treated as your personal slave.

He looks like I have slapped him silly. "Oh, Dar –Ana, I was only messing with you. I like to have a relaxed working environment."

"All the same, Jack, I would prefer it if we kept a professional relationship." This is 2011 and if he can't give me the courtesy of a title, I shan't give him one in return.

He throws his hands up in mock capitulation. "Very well, Ana. As you wish." He mutters under his breath, and I'm sure I hear 'frigid'. Whatever. I nod and tiptoe through the manuscript assault course back into my own office. Only another hour and I can go and meet Barney.

* * *

"So, Ana, what's the place like?" Barney is sitting opposite me in all his nerdy glory. He's eating his sandwich with a knife and fork, dipping each morsel into a ramekin of mayonnaise. When I asked he eats like that, he just said that sometimes life gets awkward and gets in the way of his preferred behaviour, and the only way he could choke down the aberration of veggies was with emulsified egg and oil. I laugh at his scientifc description of boring old mayo.

I drag my hands over my face. "Barney, you have no idea. Honestly, if I hadn't taken the internship at GEH I don't know how I'd stick it. Actually, the sad thing is, I'd have to stick it, just go home and lament with Kate over the job, and make plans as to how we could make it better. In other words, doing the same thing as every other lowly bottom rung graduate in the country."

"You have to tell the Boss." It's not a suggestion. He swirls his crust around in the little dish, capturing every smear of mayo.

"I can't. I want to make it on my own. No, I have to make it on my own."

He gives my hair a playful tug. There's no malice with it, and it's such a short sweet gesture that it doesn't feel intrusive. Jack Hyde didn't touch me, but his body language irritated me, and left me feeling, well, not vulnerable, but creeped out and angry at his audacity.

"Ana, I know."

"You know what?" I'm curious now as to what he really knows.

"I know that you and he are seeing each other as a couple."

"No, Barney, it's not like that." But I wish that it was like that. Just as I wished earlier. I can't tell Barney about the contract .

He nods resolutely and folds his arms to punctuate his point. "Yes, it is like that. It's part of his role, and he takes his responsibilities seriously." I don't know where to look. Barney leans into me in a conspiratorial whisper. "Look, to the untrained eye it's a strange relationship. There's no right or wrong, as long as you are both on the one page. Give him a chance. He is a good man."

I pick at my sandwich, and shrug. I voice my earlier concerns, that I want to make it on my own, and that I don't know how long Christian and I will last.

Barney splits a grin. "You don't see it, do you?"

I roll my eyes, which raises a chuckle from Barney. "See what?"

"You two have got it bad for each other. And whilst I don't know you, I do know the boss, and he doesn't fall for someone easily, but you," he launches a line on his imaginary fishing rod and makes a quick circular motion, "have reeled him in, hook, line and sinker."

* * *

Wednesday morning, and my breakfast of champions consists two advil and a cup of tea. Kate and I shared a bottle of wine last night whilst I bitched and bellyached about Jack. It's not a lot easier for her. Although she's working for her father's company, she is expected to do the grind just like everyone else. I don't think she really minds, as its one way of learning the business. Also, it means that she and I still have something to talk about, besides Elliott, and I can deflect questions about Christian. How do I explain what our relationship is, that all I want to do is kneel at his feet, and wait on his every command when we are in private and be his girlfriend when we are in public?

As I pop the pills out of the pack, Jack slimes into the office. "Well good morning there, gorgeous, I mean Ana." I roll my eyes and swallow the tablets. "Got a hangover there?" I want to smack the smirk off his face.

"No, Jack, just a headache."_ From listening to your verbal garbage all day, and for the foreseeable future._ His lips curl into a creepy grin and he slopes out of the office. I pick up my assigned manuscripts and getting out my pen and post-its, I start to read.

Around 11am, I stretch and decide to go to the break-room for a few minutes. I give Jack a cursory nod as I pass his office door. I wander down to say hi to Claire, the receptionist. With her long finely dreadlocked hair, and hipster specs, she's a complete contrast to the identikit blonds of GEH, and definitely one of the nice things about working here.

"Hi Ana, you going for a cup of tea?" Her eyes twinkle as she reaches into her drawer and brings out a little brown paper sack. "I made scones this morning. A perfect British snack to complement your British drink."

I am just about to tell her that I'm feeling a little worse for wear when her jaw drops to the floor. I follow her line of vision and there he comes, Christian. Freaking. Grey. Claire drops her bag of scones onto the desk and sits up straight. "Good morning, Sir, h-how may I help you?"

"Good morning, my name is Christian Grey and I am taking this opportunity to visit my new premises."

Claire nods, shakes her head then nods again. "No, yes, I mean, of course Mr Grey, is there anyone in particular you'd like to meet?" She is all but drooling over him, and whilst part of me can understand it, he is drop dead gorgeous after all, another part of me has a twinge of jealousy.

Christian finally makes eye contact with me. I give him a small smile. My own expression probably mirrors Claire's when I see the tie that he is wearing. Memories flood my mind and moisture floods my panties. "Good morning Miss Steele, how are you enjoying your second day in SIP?"

"Good morning Mr Grey. My day is going well, thank you." I catch a quick look at Claire who is gaping at me with an expression that says 'We aren't finished here yet, Steele.'

Christian glances over my shoulder, and I turn around. Ugh. Who is sidling up but Jack, with that smarmy shit eating grin of his. "Christian Grey, I presume." He goes to extend his hand, then as if realising he is eight inches shorter than Christian, he pulls himself up to his full height, and sticks out his chest. I'm sure I've seen more impressive displays of masculinity from a bantam chicken.

Christian doesn't even look perturbed by Jack's behaviour. He extends his hand and smoothly says "I don't believe we have met. You are?"

"Jack Hyde, Head of Fiction. I see you have met my little assistant, Ana." I roll my eyes at his tone, and catch a sharp stare from Christian. "Although," he continued, "you should have seen her this morning, popping the advil for a headache." He air quotes the word headache, and Christian's face goes from a stare to a glare, at Jack or myself, I'm not sure.

"Anastasia and I are already acquainted, as I'm sure you are aware. She accepted an internship at GEH, and as literature and publishing are her main areas of interest, a placement here will be most beneficial to her career." I haven't been around Christian for long but even I can sense the dominant tone beneath those non-confrontational words.

Jack shrugs. "She's still mine for three days a week and yours for two."

"Whatever you want to think, Jack." Christian replies mildly.

"Jack, I'm quite sure that Mr Grey didn't come to visit SIP to discuss over-the-counter headache remedies with staff," I interject. I need to end this pissing contest. I know Christian will win, and meanwhile I'll be stuck with Jack.

But Jack, the ninny that he is, doesn't know when to quit. He isn't even in the same species as Christian. "And when we go to New York for the YA Fiction convention, she'll be with me for four days." What? This is the first I've heard of this. I'm not going to New York alone with him!

Christian blinks, and gives away nothing. "Anastasia, would you care to take a stroll with me?" He gives Jack a cursory nod, and escorts me out of the building. We walk in silence for a few seconds until we come to an alleyway. Suddenly, Christian pulls me into the narrow dark space between the buildings, and I gasp in shock at his determination and show of strength. He takes my wrists, twists them behind my back and pushes me against the wall, claiming my mouth in a demanding kiss. There is no doubt that my lips are going to be bruised after this. I try to squirm from his grasp, but I don't put up much of a fight, and succumb to him. Part of me is so relieved to be in his hands again, I need the release, I need his release.

Finally he breaks away from me, leaving me panting for air.

"Well, Miss Anastasia Steele, what made you think you could lie to me?" Another kiss brands my mouth. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"


	22. Chapter 22

A/N, Thank you Wattle and Ariadne in Naxos for beta-ing. Thank you so much for your reviews and for reading.

to the guest who sent me a PM, I haven't forgotten about Storms of Greysteinn, it just takes a bit of research! If you register, then I can reply :)

* * *

Chapter 22

In the narrow space between the buildings, the sharp angle of the sunlight casts Christian's face in half shadow. It's an odd combination of sinister and, well, scary. Maybe it's not such an odd combination after all.

"Sir, I didn't know about New York!" I think my protest might fall on deaf ears.

He says nothing but releases my wrists, and I look down at them. I miss his touch. I can see a faint red mark from his thumb and I'm actually feeling sad that it will fade in a matter of minutes. "I'm not talking about New York, Anastasia." He flicks out his blackberry and punches in a number. "Yes, Claire, Grey here. Miss Steele will not be returning to work this afternoon. No, she is well, I need her services for her other position. Please inform the necessary staff. Thank you. Goodbye." His hands cup my face and he moves in close to me. I close my eyes, allowing my other senses to savour his scent, his touch, the sound of his voice, even the residual taste of his kiss. "Open you eyes and listen. We will go in to your office, you will collect your belongings and we will get in my car. Do you understand?" Again, he doesn't ask me if I agree, only if I understand. I nod. "Say it."

"I understand, Sir." I know I'm in trouble, but I'm feeling bad enough. I deserve to be punished for this. Christian made it clear that he didn't like lies, and whilst I didn't lie, I didn't tell the truth either. I hate knowing that I've let him down, and disappointed him.

I don't look at him as we walk through the building, but the noises follow. There are sighs of appreciation from the women (and a few men), rustles of paper and scraping of chairs as people literally straighten up when he passes. In between there are punctuations of 'hhhmmmms' from Christian. He's taking everything in. No doubt there will be a long list for the purchasing and maintenance department tomorrow. When we get to my office, Jack is in his own space, feet on the table as usual. He is the only person who hasn't jumped when Christian passed, but with one steely look, Jack drops his feet to the floor with a thud and mutters a 'Grey'. I want to get out of here and I scramble into my room to get my back and jacket. I turn around and bump into Christian's chest. He's blocking the door and surveying the space.

"So this is your office?" His eyes roam from the ceiling to the grimy window to the stained utilitarian carpet. When I confirm it, he responds with another 'hhhmmm'. "Right Miss Steele, let's leave."

"Hey, she's my assistant Grey, where do you think you are going?" I roll my eyes. He's just a giant prick. Talking about me like I'm not even here. Christian never loses his cool, merely stares at him unobjectively, and says "I have left a message with Claire, the receptionist, Hyde. She can communicate it to you." With Jack doing his best to close his jaw from the undramatic response, I give a little smirk, and we leave.

* * *

In the car, we drive in silence. No Taylor, no music, radio nor chat. It's unnerving I wish I knew what he was thinking. Rather than turning right towards Grey House, we have gone straight on. Escala. I feel another pang of guilt. Not only am I out of work for the afternoon, but I have pulled him away from his own duties. You don't get to be Master of the Universe by playing hookey.

When we arrive in Escala he guides me into the lounge. His hand on the small of my back is reassuring, comforting. When he moves away, again I feel bereft of his touch. I move to sit down, but I'm met with a sharp command. "Stand straight, hands by your sides." I obey.

From my spot in the centre of the room I'm aware of him padding down towards the piano. The hairs on my neck tingle. I had no idea he could play so beautifully. The rich beautiful sound envelopes the room. I close my eyes. For a moment I'm in a ballroom, twirling round the beautiful maple floor in Christian's arms. There is nobody there but us, yet the room is crowded with others. He is even more entrancing in his formal wear, groomed to perfection. His hair is ever-so-slightly tamed, his eyes only on me. I am wearing a floor length silk gown in blue, with the light dancing on each individual strand of delicate fabric, reflecting off the diamonds on my collar, the outward symbol of our private agreement. I give a small sigh, the music stops and my dream is broken.

Christian calls me down to him at the piano, and points to a chair. "You may sit. And you may speak." He is standing away from the piano, as if he wants to put some distance between the instrument; the conduit of beauty that he has created from within battling the inner anger that remains.

"Sir, I didn't know anything about New York! I promise!" I try not to shudder. "I wouldn't go alone to the break room with him, never mind across the country. Besides, Elizabeth will be there too, I'm sure." She's much higher up the pecking order than me, as she is associate head of YA Fiction and Literary Fiction. Personally, I think she should be Jack's boss, and I wonder why she isn't.

"No fucking way."

I think back to the contract. I don't want to go to NYC with Jack, but I can't sabotage my future. "You said you wouldn't stand in the way of my career," I counter. I don't believe that he would, but I have to make it clear. Would it be different if we were a normal couple?

He runs his hands through his hair. "Standing in the way of your career? Fuck, Anastasia, what I'm doing is standing in the way of a date rapist!" He paces back the length of the room and bangs his fist on the piano keys, the discordant sound ringing in my ears. "He's a walking lawsuit. He has gone through ten assistants in five years. There is nothing of note in his HR records, nor in the exit interviews of those women." Well, that's creepy, but no claim of sexual harassment. As if he's reading my mind, he continues, "And I'll get Welch to look further into this. I can't fire him without due cause but I'll be keeping my eye on him."

For a minute it crosses my mind that Barney ratted me out. But no, I trust him not to do that. "Sir, what made you think that something was wrong?"

"When I called, it was the tone of your voice. You seemed jumpy. Then when you said 'Everything is all right, I guess,' you weren't exactly bursting with enthusiasm. Finally, and this is where I have been at fault, because of the speed at which we bought SIP, I did not have the standard due diligence carried out on the employees before you set foot in the building. I must protect what is mine." I lower my eyes in shame. I feel awful that I hadn't told him. "And your office," he continues, "what a disgusting hovel! Just as you deserve to be dressed in the finest dresses that I can buy for my girl, you also deserve to be in a clean, safe workplace." He points to the hem of my dress. "Pull up your skirt for me." I do so. "Why have you chosen to wear pantyhose rather than stockings, Anastasia?"

Why is he asking me that? He knows the answer but he's going to make me say it anyway. "Sir, I didn't want to give Jack Hyde any encouragement, just in case he brushed past me, or noticed."

"I see. You will only wear pants when you work in SIP. Do I make myself clear?"

_Crystal_. "Yes, Sir."

He folds his arms and swings his long legs over the piano stool, so that he is facing me. "Now, Anastasia. Tell me. Why did you not think to communicate with me, even though I made it expressly clear that I do not tolerate lies?"

"I ...", outside, the pattern of the clouds suddenly looks interesting. Christian clears his throat and I'm back in the real world. "I wanted to try and resolve the problem on my own, Sir. It's just that... if I wasn't working for you and we weren't..." I trail off.

"Do continue Anastasia." I splay my fingers over my thighs, resisting the urge to lean over and touch his hands.

"It's just that if we weren't under a contractual agreement, I'd be another lowly intern trying to deal with a creepy boss." It might be my imagination but I'm sure he flinched at the words 'contractual agreement'.

"So, Anastasia, tell me this." His repetition seems innocuous, but there has to be more to it. Trust. I can't automatically be suspicious of his motives. Christian as my Dom will always have my best interests at heart. I have to remember that. "If you knew of one lowly intern and you were in a position to help her, or him as the case may be, would you help them or believe they had to make it on their own?"

"Of course I'd help them!" I leap up and wave my arms about. "It's the right thing to do."

Christian doesn't speak. Realisation dawns on me what he has just done.

"Sit down, Anastasia." He wanders over to a cabinet, unlocks a drawer and brings out a black leather bound journal. "Open it." It's blank, and I look up at him in confusion. "Sir?"

"I want you to reflect regularly through the day on the people that you have met, and how they make you feel. What way did they address you? What way did you speak to them?" I touch the thick creamy coloured paper. Its soft velvety feel deserves to be written upon, worthy thoughts and ideas. Christian's words again cut through my thoughts. "There are no right or wrong thoughts here, Anastasia. Use the opportunity to evaluate your interactions on those around you. Every eye-rolling, every smirk gives away a little of how you feel. Those that seek to undermine your confidence will feed on that." Oh. I didn't think he saw it. I crinkle my nose, and once again, I've just given my emotion away. It sounds so much like homework. "I expect your full co-operation Anastasia, otherwise there will be consequences." His voice is stern. "Do you understand?"

Trust is a strange thing. What makes trust? I trusted Christian when he took me into the playroom. Christian trusts me to keep our agreement between us. Yet I failed to trust Christian when he said he would take care of me, even when he told me that he did not tolerate lies. Now he trusts me to keep this journal, to trust my own judgement and to seek advice and help when necessary. And I will have to trust him not to belittle my attempt at introspection.

"Sir, I understand, but can I ask you something about this task?" He nods. "It's just the day that the day we were in Esclava, a woman came in to the room when Isaac was cutting my hair." I feel the temperature drop in the room, but I continue. I'm not looking to start a fight with him, but I have to be honest. I have to trust that he will make the best decision for me. "She made me feel uncomfortable." I see Christian's jaw twitching, and he closes his eyes as if he's mentally counting to ten.

"Go ahead, Anastasia. What did this woman say?"

"Well, when she came in, Isaac called her 'Mistress' yet didn't seem pleased to see her. She then told me that I look passable, but not even a 16-year-old Christian would find me attractive."

"And what did you say to that?" He bites out the words. "And why did you not tell me this on Sunday?"

"I said that when you were 16, I would have been 9 and it would have been most inappropriate." I pause. "I didn't want to tell you on Sunday. She seemed to be a friend of yours and I didn't want to make you mad."

He grips the edge of the piano, his knuckles whitening against the black lacquered wood. "Are you mad with me, Sir?" It's barely a whisper. I close the journal over, and clutch it to my chest, as if the unwritten words will protect me.

"Anastasia, you should have trusted me. I want to protect you, I need to protect you. The gift of submission is precious, and as a Dom I treat that with the utmost respect." He takes a deep breath.

"Please don't make me go back there, Sir. I know that I have to keep myself groomed to your requirements but I can do it myself or go somewhere else."

"You will not go back there again." I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't want to see that barbecued Barbie again. "I told you, I protect what is mine. Do you think I will lie to you?" I shake my head. "I may enjoy seeing your discomfort, but not in that context."

"Sir, may I ask who is that woman?"

"Her name is Elena Lincoln and she owns the salon." With Christian as co-owner.

"Why would she taunt me about you being 16 years old?" I figure Elena is in her early 40s, so when Christian was 16, she would have been around 31/32. He would have been a boy.

Christian pauses, a pained expression on his face. "I was in a relationship with her."

Fuck, I'm incredulous. "At 15?" it's half a statement, half a question. And then it dawns on me. If I was having these kinky thoughts before I had a name for it, then so was he. "Were you and she...?"

Grey eyes meet mine. "I was her submissive for six years Anastasia."


	23. Chapter 23

Hello, Thank you for reading, and thank you to the usual suspects :)

* * *

I blink and stare at Christian. Did I just imagine that?

"Sir?" I question. "You gave your submission?" He nods, and this just doesn't make sense to me. "But you are a Dominant."

"I am." There is no doubt.

"But..." my voice trails off. She was ancient. And she was mean. I hear her mocking voice reverberating around my head and I feel ... inadequate.

"Anastasia. Pay attention to me." His clear tone again cuts through the derision that's clouding my thoughts. I look at him and I still cannot picture it. This strong determined man submitting to her!

"Why? You are so..., well, so Dominant, in control. In charge." Masterful.

He changes the subject. "Anastasia. What are the tenets of BDSM?"

"Safe, sane and consensual, Sir." Where is he going with this? He was only sixteen.

"I would add communication to that." He pads over to the couch and pats the seat next to him. "Sit." He frowns. "Closer." I scooch up until we are nearly touching. "Communication is key, and I wish to share some things with you."

"O-kay." I'm listening. I chance a look up at him, at that strong profile. The man of my dreams. My Dom who has just told me he was a submissive.

He shakes his head. "Man, I gave my parents so much shit when I was a teenager. I felt guilt."

"Guilt? What did you do? Shit, sorry Sir, I mean, can I ask that?"

"You MAY ask. There was guilt over my birth mother, guilt over not wanting to touch my parents, guilt over how much pain I caused them. And I felt so much guilt over feeling that I was some sick pervert."

I know that feeling. "But you aren't a pervert." I want to comfort him, but I don't have permission to touch.

"Anastasia, when did you first start having stirrings, and thoughts about submission?"

I think back. "I remember wrestling with the boys next door when I was around 11 or 12. My dad and Carla were still married at the time. One day, the older boy, Will, tied me to the tree in the yard because I wouldn't say that boys were better than girls." I smile a little, reliving the memory. "Anyway, Will said, 'I'm going to kiss you if you don't say it!' I was excited and nervous. I'd never been kissed by a boy before. He leaned in and grabbed my plaits. I tried to twist my head so that he'd release me, but I was laughing at the same time."

Christian smirks. "Well, wasn't he quite the little Dominant. What happened next?"

"Well, JP, his younger brother had run inside and told his dad that Will was torturing me and trying to kiss me, and his dad came tearing down the garden. He freed me and I kept telling him that it was fine, we were only playing, but he frogmarched poor Will into the house berating him about respect for girls."

"Good thing I don't know this Will character now. I might have to have words with him for touching my girl." With that phrase he takes my hand and entwines them in his.

I turn the tables on him. "What about you, Sir?"

"Anastasia do you remember the film the Goonies by Steven Spielberg? It's a classic. I saw it for the first time when I was 13." I scrunch my nose. A classic, made four years before I was born. I've seen bits of it, but they all shout over each other and it gave me a headache. Give me the gentle dialogue of Johanna Spryi's 'Heidi' any day, or Louisa M Alcott's 'Little Women'. By the time I was 14 I was reading Austen, but I didn't fully appreciate the quality of the work until later.

Reading my expression, he continues. "I'll take that as a 'no'. Anyway, within that story at the end, the baddies have all the kids held prisoner. When they are finally being freed, the oldest guy goes to kiss the oldest girl. He goes to unbind her hands but instead ducks in under them and they kiss." He looks wistful. "There and then I realised that it was the way I wanted to kiss girls, with their hands tied, as they smiled adoringly at me. I was concentrating on this scene, so fucking horny to me, and all Elliott could shout was that the girl was hot." Christian actually gives me a sheepish smile, for a second I see the young teenager boy. "I wanked until my dick was numb."

"But that doesn't explain how you became submissive." I'm confused now. And I make a mental note to look up Goonies. I can turn down the sound, and fast forward to the end, to see this scene in a kid's film that was a seminal point for Christian.

* * *

Christian's POV

Fuck. Looking into those clear blue eyes, so innocent, yet wanting so much more out of life. I want to be the man to give her that. I want to take her innocence in the playroom, but keep her sweet intrinsic goodness alive in the other aspects of our lives. When she's forty years old I don't want to see any hurt or world weariness there. I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe.

I am so fucking furious with Elena now. I told her not to go near my Anastasia. Who does she think she is, interfering in my life when I'm 27? I take a deep breath. I still need to provide an unbiased account to this beautiful woman who has agreed to submit to me. I'll sort Elena out, but I can't do her a disservice in front of Anastasia.

"I was 14, nearly six feet tall, all gangly arms and legs, and angry at the world. I was consumed with guilt, as I've already told you. To release some of the energy, Elena offered to take me off my mother's hands for the summer. Elliott was there as well, and we didn't see much of her, to be honest, and I enjoyed the work. I enjoyed seeing the plants grow. Fuck, I even enjoyed raking leaves and mowing the lawn. I imagined that the garden was my kingdom. I controlled what grew and where. The following year, I was 15, nearly 16, and Ellliott was a big-man at 17. He had got an apprenticeship with a construction company. I went to Elena's on my own."

I hear her breath hitch. She knows what it's like to be a teenager not knowing what's wrong with you. She also knows what a fucking headrush it is when you find someone who understands what you feel. I have to continue with the story.

"She had left me on my own in the house when she had gone out on some errand. I was going into the kitchen to get myself a snack. I saw her computer there, and I thought I'd just look up some of the things I'd been thinking about. She came back and caught me on internet. It was 1998, and the technology was so much different to what we have today. I didn't get to browse off the page fast enough."

"She turned off the monitor and walked into Lincs office. She sat down in his swivel chair and ordered me to stand in front of her."

"_Is this what you want to do to women Christian?" I stumble and stammer. "Answer me now!"_

"_Yes, and I know it's wrong. I'm supposed to want to be all gentle and loving. Please please don't tell my parents. I'm fucked up enough already."_

"_Relax Christian." She picks up a rule and flexes it in her hands. "There are women who feel like you do, but it takes a very special type of man to provide happiness to those women. Do you think you are that kind of man?"_

"_No woman will ever want me, Mrs Lincoln. I'm fifty shades of fucked up. Fuck, I can't. I can't just touch a girl or have a girl touch me."_

_Her voice was strangely reassuring. She stood up, and walked behind me. "Eyes front." I obeyed. "But before you can dominate, you should learn to submit." She touched my shoulder with the ruler and I jumped. "You must learn to trust, to control your emotions."_

"Anastasia, when Elena moved around to my front, and dragged the rule from my shoulder down to my wrist, it was then that I saw her with different eyes."

Anastasia gulps audibly. "But you were a child at the time."

"I wasn't a child. I was a teenager, and a horny one at that. I just didn't act like a sex-mad teen. There was no sex for two years. I longed to please her, to learn from her. My grades went through the roof, and I got accepted into Harvard based on them. She taught me to control my temper, my emotions. Meanwhile, Elliott was screwing every bubblegum chewing cheerleader he could lay. My brother must have kept Hugh Heffner in silk pajamas, he had so many copies of Playboy under his mattress." Completely forgetting about Kate's hair colour, I wonder aloud "It's probably where Elliott got his love of blondes."

At least that gave her a giggle. My parents had lots of formal occasions, but it was Elena who taught me to dance, to hold a woman. My mother may have told me the difference in a salad fork and a fish fork but it was Elena who guided me on how to make food sensual, to have a woman quite literally eating from the palm of your hand. My parents raised me to be a good man, a Grey, but it was Elena who helped me realise the potential of the Dominant and man that I wanted to be. Spending time as a submissive helped me to understand what made a good Dominant. I experienced every toy in my playroom. I know what pain feels like. I know how to pleasure and punish, because I have been there.

"Did she beat you?" Her voice is tentative and questioning. Impact punishment is something that I'm going to have to use with additional care, at least until I have her trained.

I can't help but smirk. "Yes, as both a well-deserved punishment and well-deserved reward. The day I got accepted to Harvard was celebrated by a formal family dinner. That night was a different celebration."

She covers her ears with her hands. "lalalalala, I don't want to think of you with her!" There's a short silence as I wait for her to stop the tuneless singing. It was kind of cute actually. "That still doesn't explain why she said that to me. I mean, are you and she... Eeeeww." Is my Anastasia jealous? It's not a quality I tolerate in subs, but there's something so endearing about this woman. I can't undo my past. I don't want to undo it either, but I can protect my future.

"Anastasia. Look at me." She is reluctant to raise her head, but I'm not going to put up with recalcitrant behaviour like that. I curl a finger under her chin. "I said, look at me. Good girl." I am the Dom here, and she has to learn that. I need to have her obedience, not just lip service to it. "I don't know why Elena said that to you, but you mean a lot to me. You mean more to me than any person has in a long time."

Her little pink mouth forms a little soft smile. I hope that I've gone far enough to reassure her. But now I have get to the bottom of this and reassure myself too.

I clears my throat. "We have discussed this enough now. You are supposed to be in SIP tomorrow, but that place is a deathtrap. You aren't going back into those offices until they meet with a building code. This afternoon you may go to your office in GEH." There is no choice in the matter.

"Sir, I want to go back to SIP. Please? You know how much I want to make it on my own." Fuck, she is an unruly little sub.

"I am your Dominant, it is my responsibility to keep you safe, and that building is not safe."

She rolls my eyes at me. I fire a warning shot. "Strike one." She knows what that means now.

"Sir, please." I am not going to be swayed by those baby blues. "What if we don't last?"

I regain control of the situation. "Anastasia, It has been a long time since I felt any emotions the way I feel about you. I trust you, but you must trust me too."

I give her hand a quick squeeze. Much as I'd love to have her kneeling at my feet worshipping my cock, I've got some shit to sort out. "Taylor!" I yell. I don't know why I yelled. He'll not be too far away. He's discreet enough to be out of earshot, but Taylor has heard and seen a lot worse than that. Jason Taylor is my right hand man. He's a good man and I dread the day, yet look forward to the day that I lose him to the woman who deserves him.

He comes into the room. "Yes, Sir?"

"Can you please take Miss Steele to GEH?" I will drive there myself shortly.

"Of course, Sir. Miss Steele, can you accompany me please?" As she walks out, that pert little ass sashaying unknowingly, I feel my dick twitch. _Not now, Grey._

When they are out of the room, and I hear the faint ping of the elevator I go to my office. I have a few phone calls to make.

"Roz, Grey here. I need a communication to go to all employees of Seattle Independent Publishing. That building is disgusting. They are to be given one week's paid vacation whilst the place is renovated." Especially my Anastasia's office space.

Next call. The voice on the end is languid. On first appearance, Elliott is a laid back hippie. He disguises his sharp mind, but gets things done nonetheless. "Hey bro."

Addressing me as 'bro' is a case in point. I wonder what he calls his customers. Actually, today I am the customer. "Elliott, do you ever sound professional?"

"Course I do, _bro_, but why would I waste it on you?" I can hear his mirth. Arrogant shit. I can't help but smile to myself, I love him but he annoys me as only a brother can.

"I need a favour, _bro_." The slang catches in my throat. "I need you to do a quick turnaround on a remodel of SIP."

There's the knowing chuckle._ Come on then Elliott, let's get it over and done with._ "SIP, it wouldn't have anything to do with Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, would it?" My silence is met with another laugh. "Sure, bro. I'll get something sorted out for you. On one condition..." Asshole. I know what the condition is.

"Thank you, Lelliott."

"Anytime bro, just glad to see you happy. Laters."

The good mood that I feel after talking to Elliott is going to take a very sharp nose dive.

"Christian Darrrrrling, I haven't heard from you since you brought your little subbie in on Sunday." I thought Anastasia's jealously was sweet and naive, the unfounded worries of a new girlfriend, but Elena really is being eaten alive with envy.

"Her name is Anastasia, and you spoke to her when I made it patently clear I didn't want you going near her."

My blood runs cold when Elena nearly repeats word for word what Anastasia said. "Christian, not even your 16 year old self would have found her attractive. She's not one of us."

"I'm not 16 years old any more Elena, and I'm not your submissive to order and control. That ship sailed long ago."

Her voice is taunting me, daring me, "You know what happened last time you fell in love." How fucking dare she speak to me like that.

"Elena, I have never been in love before, not with you, and not with that other one." I grit my teeth, and do the best to control my temper, because at the minute, quite frankly, if I had a whip in my hand, I'd flay the skin off her devious ass. "Let. Me. Make. Myself. Clear. You are to stay away from her."

I hang up and stretch back in the chair. I pull my hands over my face, and her residual scent fills my lungs. I breathe in and out, deeper and deeper. I need Anastasia in my life.


	24. Chapter 24

Thank you Vanessa, Ordlas, Wattle and Ariadne. Thanks to SmileRose for the visual inspiration.

Also, thank you for reading!

* * *

Chapter 24

Taylor smooths into the underground garage of GEH, and pulls into Christian's parking spot, or rather one of them. It's just occurred to me that my own car is at SIP, and I ask Taylor if he can take me there so that I can collect it. "I promise I'll come straight back, Taylor."

He shakes his head. "No, Miss Steele. My instructions were to take you to GEH." I open my mouth to try and wheedle a ride to SIP but decide to zip it. Even if he took me there, he'd have to report to his boss, who is essentially my boss. "I shall arrange for your car to be brought here." I fumble in my purse for my keys, and go to hand him the bunch. "No need Miss Steele."

I roll my eyes. Of course there's no need. "Christian has a copy of them, doesn't he?" Taylor's nod is imperceptible. "Does he keep a copy of all car keys?" _Or is it just mine?_

"It is company policy to keep a copy of keys for any car that has been issued by GEH." Oh. "It is annotated in the contract, Miss Steele." His smile is kind, despite the harshness of the words. When am I going to learn to read Christian's contracts? 'Flipping control freak.' I mutter under my breath. I want to grumble a bit louder, but this isn't Taylor's fault. It's mine. I don't want to disappoint Christian again.

"Well, thank you in advance for retrieving my car, and thank you for the ride to work."

"Anytime Miss Steele." He escorts me in to the building and I take the lift down to the basement, to my little office, and maybe to see Barney.

His door is ajar, and he's sitting at the computer, staring at the screen. He has a pair of headphones on, but rather than over his ears he has them perched on his head, clamping down parts of his hair and giving him the impression of an electrified Mickey Mouse. When he sees me he looks up, and gives an exaggerated check of his watch. "Two days. Longer than I expected."

"What?" Does he think I'm back here because I failed at SIP? I scowl at him. "Christian sent me back here. Said the place was a health and safety nightmare. Or something like that."

"I could have told him that. In fact, I did tell him that." Barney shrugs and looks to his screen and types furiously for a few seconds.

"You! He lands in there, has half the staff swooning at his feet then demands I leave with him. I thought we were friends!" I can't believe it. I also chastise myself inwardly for my outward show of jealously. Of course, I leave out the bits about not telling him about creepy Jack Hyde and the amazing kiss in the alleyway.

"We are friends, Ana. And your safety is important to the Boss, as it is to everyone. It's called Duty of Care." He's talking to me slowly and patiently, like I'm five years old. "When the Boss took over SIP, I made him aware of the crumbling IT infrastructure. He doesn't make these decisions lightly." Oh yeah, I suppose Barney only thinks in binary. IT and security are his health and safety. I have to stop getting mad at people for doing their jobs. "I would suspect that once he had access to all SIP's files, he wanted to inspect the place unannounced."

I'm mellowing out a little now. Barney's easygoing nature combined with the bizarre silhouette ease my annoyance.

"You really don't see it, do you? You are special to the Boss. If I were a gambling man, I'd bet my avatar on World of Warcraft that he's going to give the staff a paid holiday and gut the place before he lets you back in there again." Great, Barney is so unmaterialistic, that it's his digital possessions that he'd wager.

"He'd do that?"

"Oh yeah, I've seen him do it before, but not based on his feelings for one person. He takes safety and security of his staff seriously." Pause. "Wow. That's a lot of 's' in one sentence for me." Back from his soliloquy, Barney winks at me. "Sometimes, to submit is the easiest thing in the world, but when it's difficult to do, it can be the most rewarding." He pulls his Mickey Mouse ears down over his normal Barney ones. "We'd best get some work done before the Boss comes down cracking the whip."

* * *

I get home, and Kate is already there. She is in her jammies, mercifully not her pink fuzzy ones. She's on the phone. "Yeah, pepperoni." She waves at me, seeking my attention. "The usual?" she mouths. I nod, and open the fridge, looking for a soda. Two six packs of Sam Adams. Her voice fades as she walks from the kitchen to the bedroom. "Yeah, thin crust, cheese, nothing else. No, that's it. Thank you, have a great evening." She hangs up and shuffles back out to me.

"Hey Ana, I thought we'd have some pizza, seeing as we are going out to this stuffed shirt dinner tomorrow night. " Kate has been to hundreds of those things.

"You are going too?" Wait. How did she know I was going? I haven't been chatting to Kate in so long. I miss our silly chats. I didn't expect the transition from student to grown-up would happen so fast.

"Elliott invited me, and he bugged Christian into telling him that he was taking you." She twists her hair into a bun on top of her head and pops open two bottles. "Cheers and beers, Ana."

I smile. "Back at you, Kate." I take a sip. It's bubbly and cold and so normal after the bizarre day I've had, with Jack, the Elena story and Barney's cryptic statements.

"So, what's it like dating Christian? Is he the control freak that everyone says he is?" Fuck. Is he a control freak? I should text him and tell him about the beers. I'll get a chance later.

"You work in the media, Kate. You of all people should know you shouldn't believe everything you read." I laugh. "Sorry, that came out wrong, but you know what I mean." Good come back Steele. And now for the deflection. "Never mind me, what about you and Elliott?"

She throws herself onto the floor, spread-eagled. Interesting pose. I don't think I'll ask her about kinks just yet. "Ana, he's funny and smart, and hung like a bull, and ..." she rolls onto her belly and sits up. Taking a sip of her beer, she continues, "he likes me, for me. Not because I'm Kate Kavanagh. It's so normal." I know what Kate means. She and I became buddies before I made the link between her and Kavanagh Media. The same with Jose. We accepted Kate for who she was. Despite her confidence in the world at large, she is always wary of people who want to know her for who she knows, not who she is.

Before I have any more beer, I take my chance, "Why don't you send him a text, let him know you are thinking of him." I dig my own phone out, "and I'll give Christian a buzz."

To: Christian Grey

From: Ana Steele

Sir, Kate and I are having pizza and a couple of beers tonight. Hope you don't mind.

I'm not sure if I have to report into him, but it's good manners, and besides, I miss him.

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Sir

Care to take the opportunity to rephrase that?

Ratfarts. And he's Sir again. I must ask him about that. It odd though. Sir seems so much more natural to me.

To: Sir

From: Ana Steele

Sir, May I enjoy a couple of beers with Kate tonight?

To: Anastasia Steele

From: Sir

You may. Have fun and don't forget that you will be coming to Escala to prepare for the dinner. You will not be required to stay over.

I'm not staying over. I feel my stomach sink. But I'll still have the weekend with him.

"What's with the War and Peace Ana?"

"Huh?"

"You have been typing back and forward for five minutes." Her eyes narrow. "Were you asking permission from Mr Control Freak?"

Bingbong. The pizza's here and I'm saved by the bell.

"It was nothing, just that he wants me to go and get ready at Escala. You know I don't have fancy dresses to choose from."

"So he has picked something out for you? You aren't a doll to be played with, Ana."

"Don't make it sound bad, please. I know what I'm wearing, and when I make my own money, I'll be happy to buy my own stuff." Of course, there's no point in telling her that as Christian's sub, I've got to wear what he chooses.

She shoves a slice of pizza into her mouth, the mozzarella cheese stringing out as spirals her tongue to catch it. "Well, Elliott said that he's never seen Christian with a girl before, but I'll still whip his ass if he messes with you." I smirk at the idea of it. "What's so funny, Steele? You don't think I could take him down?"

"Kate, it's not funny, and I do appreciate you looking out for me, but can't we just pretend that we have two normal-but-amazing dates, who are taking us out?" I avoid saying the dreaded word boyfriend.

"All right, Ana." She points two fingers from her eyes to mine and to the phone. "I'll be watching him."

I break the tension by going to the fridge, and popping another two cold ones. When I come back, Kate is standing at the mirror over the fireplace. She has pulled out her topknot bun and is braiding her hair to one side, fixing the loose tendrils with a jewelled clip. She looks back from the mirror. "What d'you think of this for tomorrow night?"

"Lovely. You are doing your own hair?"

" Nah, I'm going all out. I want Elliott and I to be the hottest couple there." I arch an eyebrow at her. Maybe I am learning something from Christian. "OK, well, joint hottest couple." I sip my beer. Normal. Two girls just chilling. I like normal.

* * *

After a curiously uneventful day at GEH, I drive to Escala. There's a little sensor in the car and garage gate slides open seamlessly. A portcullis to Christian's castle. When I get out of the lift, Mrs Jones is there. "Hello, Miss Steele. Your things are laid out for you in your room, and I've made you a light snack to tide you over." I thank her, grateful that I don't have to think too much at the minute. My mind is mostly occupied on tonight. Christian called it a date. I know it's a business event, but still, if I'm on a date, I want to look my best.

In my room, my clothes are laid out for me. Rather than feeling like a doll being dressed, I feel freedom. I didn't have to think about what I was going to wear. There was no stress. Besides, if I was left to my own devices, I'd probably look like Barney, in his mis-matched inelegance.

After a shower, I smooth on body lotion, and pick up the underwear. It's a tiny scrap of black silk and lace, but when I put it on, I can't help but admire my ass in the mirror. I'm giggle at my audacity. These aren't my 10-packs of Old Navy boy-pants. The matching bra is black, with embroidered orchids across the cups, with what looks like a small amethyst in the centre. It couldn't be a real gem. Either way, it looks so beautiful. Before I met Christian, underwear was a necessity, now I feel it's part of the pretty package, and I can't wait to be unwrapped.

I call Mrs Jones and ask her to help me fasten up the dress. It's stunning, an indigo silk creation. Its design is so simple; there are no embellishments on it at all, but when I move, the iridescence of the fabric shimmers around me. If I could grow wings now, I'd imagine myself as an ethereal fairy princess. For a literature major, I'm stuck for words. Again. Mrs Jones squeezes my hand, and reaffirms what I'm thinking. "You look beautiful Miss Steele. Mr Grey will be lost for words himself." I smile nervously. I hope so.

I go downstairs, and Christian is there, at the piano. On the penultimate step, I stop for a moment and listen to him play. I don't know any classical music, other than Beethoven's 9th, and the noisy bit from Carmina Burana. I never understood why people listened to it, but when I hear the rich notes fill the space and surround me, it's not only an aural experience, it gives me goosebumps. The music stops with a discordant note, and, not taking his eyes off me, Christian walks to the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand. He's in white tie, full formal dress. The tuxedo looks as if it was made just for him, and I resist the urge to throw myself at his feet and beg to be allowed to undress him.

"What was that piece, Sir?"

"Chopin. Nocturne No 2." I've heard of Chopin, but that's where the knowledge ends. "You look exquisite, Anastasia." His features soften so much when he smiles like that, and I feel what little there is of my panties moisten.

I bite my lip and drop my eyes, partly in embarrassment of the compliment. "Thank you, Sir." I murmur.

"Do. Not. Bite. That. Lip." He brushes his thumb against my mouth and I release, with a small mewl of pleasure, as his thumb and then hand caress my cheek. I lean in to the touch. "Tonight, it will be best if you remember to call me by my given name. After all, we are on our first date, and I am proud to be out with you. "

"Okay, Christian." I smile. Our first date, with my Christian.

When we arrive, there is a crowd of photographers at the door. "Christian looks to Taylor through the rear view mirror. "What the fuck?" He's talking to himself, not me. "The press normally aren't present at these things. If this is Kavanagh father's doing, I'll have his balls on a plate."

I interrupt his growl. "Kate wouldn't do this to us, Christian." He looks conflicted. I continue, helpfully, "If you like, I'll find a back entrance with Taylor."

He scowls. "Don't you want to be seen with me, Anastasia?" He runs his hand through his hair. "Fuck, this was supposed to be our first date, to be in public, but not like this." He takes a deep breath. "Are you ready? It's going to be a little scary, but trust me." He takes me gently by the chin and forces me to look deep into his eyes. "Do you trust me? I need to hear you say it."

"Yes, Christian." I breathe, "I trust you."

As Taylor opens the car door, I'm blinded by the flashbulbs. It feels like there are hundreds of them. I can't see where I'm going but I feel Christian's hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently forward. The noise of the cameras snapping and the shouting of the photographers is deafening. I don't know if I can stand having two senses lost to this assault. The voices shout, "Christian, Christian Grey, who is your date? Who is that with you?"

I'm grateful I haven't lost my sense of touch. Not moving his hand, I feel his lips brush against the shell of my ear. "You are doing wonderfully, my beautiful girl."

"Mr Grey!" It's odd that Christian finally turns to the paparazzo that calls him by his title. Then again, maybe it's not so odd.

"Who is your companion?"

Christian curves his hand around my waist. "This is Miss Anastasia Steele."

"Are you dating?" Christian merely smiles. Well, fuck if I don't know the answer to that myself. "Miss Steele is my date, yes."

I try not to cling to Christian, but he never breaks his touch with me. "You are an amazing woman. This gauntlet will be over soon."

The night is spent in a whirlwind of introductions. The guests seem as amazed to see Christian with a companion as the photographers did, although they are a lot more discreet in their enquiries. He never leaves my side, even when some men and a few women make it clear that they'd like to speak to him alone. I'm not familiar with Seattle's movers and shakers, but the room exudes wealth and privilege, old money like Kate and self-made money like Christian. The formal photos of the event are relaxed, and I think I even manage a smile. I feel less trapped in the headlights. I envy Kate for a moment. Not only is she used to these kinds of people, but her Grey brother isn't the source of media speculation. I barely get a chance to talk to her, but we can do that in the morning.

Back in the car, Christian holds my hand the whole way to my apartment. He lifts my palm to his lips and drops a kiss. I have felt his hands on me all evening, but I haven't felt his hands in mine. "You were perfect tonight, Anastasia. You are everything I want in a woman, and more." I'm not sure how perfect I was, but Christian couldn't have made it easier form

I manage another smile. My nerves of the evening are finally easing up. Walking me up to the door, he gives me a soft kiss on the lips. "Much as I want to take you seven ways to Sunday, Anastasia, as a gentleman, on our first date I shall merely escort you inside." I finally giggle, and relax, and play along. For a few seconds, in the porch light, he looks like a boy. There's something so innocent and fun about this.

"Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Christian. I had a wonderful time with you, and I look forward to seeing you again."

He smirks, "Oh, I think we shall play together very well, Anastasia." Another sweet innocent kiss. "Until tomorrow night." He takes my key from me and opens the front door.

As I close the door behind him, I do a little happy dance, allow myself a girly squeal and potter off to bed.

The next morning, I'm woken by Kate's scream. I jump out of bed and she's standing there in her jammies, jabbing angrily at the window, with Elliott holding her back, whispering in her ear. The press have camped outside the building. I have to call Christian. We've been surrounded, and I feel terror. I grab my phone and punch in his number, but after one ring, I hang up and join Kate on the sofa. She looks furious.

"Ana, come here and sit, you'll be out of any lines of sight. Kate, calm down. We'll get this sorted out." He picks up the tablet and googles Christian Grey. "Fuck." That doesn't sound good. We both crowd around him to see what's on the screen.

There's a picture of Christian and I, with a strapline. _'Seattle's most elusive bachelor spotted on a date with recent WSU graduate Anastasia Steele – is it wedding bells? Seattle Nooz has got the scoop! Strangely enough, the luckiest girl in Seattle, also has a roommate who is dating Christian's brother, the playboy Elliott Grey. Talk about keeping it in the family! Whilst Christian is elusive, Elliot is anything but – wonder how sparks are flying between those two trust fund babies.'_

"How can they do that? How can they write that about you?" I'm equally angry for Kate now, and feel guilt. This is all because Christian was there with me, a date, last night.

I jump when my phone rings. It's Christian. The words tumble out of me as I tell him what has happened. I start to apologise and I don't know why. I'm aware of Christian's voice in the background but he's not making sense. Finally, I hear him say "Give me Elliott." I hand the phone to Elliott, and the normally laid back older brother looks like he might explode.

"Who tipped them off?" he growls "I'm going to find out, Bro, nobody is going to fuck with our family or girlfriends like this." I want to interrupt and clarify that I'm not a girlfriend, even though I want to me. "Yeah, Bro. I'll make sure she's okay for you. Fine. Laters." He hangs up. "Christian is on his way for you Ana, you'd best get dressed."

After what seems like hours, but was probably minutes, I peek out the window and see Christian sweeping up the steps. Elliott opens the door for him and he comes in like a man possessed, his eyes scanning the room for me.

"Please Christian, I don't want my picture splashed about the internet, I don't want to do this to you, to ruin your privacy."

"Nonsense, Anastasia." He strides into my room, and lifts blue patchwork quilt. I stand still as he swaddles me in it. He picks me up, bridal style and takes me out to the car, where I know Taylor will be waiting. The flashbulbs are sparking my peripheral vision; I can hear them in the background. I curl into Christian's arms. He whispers again, "Trust me. I will keep you safe."


	25. Chapter 25

Hello, thanks for reading, and a special thanks to Wattle, AriadneinNaxos and LilithBlood

* * *

Chapter 25

Christian POV

I scowl at the photographers, daring them to shove their cameras further into my face. At least they can't see Anastasia now, all wrapped up. Taylor opens the car door for me, and I carefully slide in, not taking Anastasia out of my arms. Screw the seatbelt for the meantime; I'm not letting her go. I don't care how wrinkled my suit is going to be either. It's only a suit, and I have a much more precious possession in my arms. With a low growl of the engine, we speed off down the street, and I see the scrum of scum, the paparazzi, leaping out of the way. Their own lives are more important than getting a picture. Selfish bastards. I want to ruin their day they way they have ruined my girl's. My blood boils as I hear Anastasia give a soft whimper beneath me. I unclasp my right arm from around her body, and push back the blue patchwork quilt that covers her face. She blinks and squinches her eyes, as she adjusts her eyes to the light outside her cotton cawl.

"Thank you for – rescuing me," she whispers. "There were so many of them, I could hear them even though Elliott had told us to stay back from the windows. I don't know what would have happened, if he, if you weren't there." Her voice fades away.

I do my best not to look angry. I'm not angry at her. "Shhh, Sweetheart, it's ok. You are safe now." I will always keep you safe. When she smiles, my heart melts, and my anger at the world temporarily subsides.

"Are they following us?" I twist round and back again, meeting Taylor's gaze in the rear view mirror.

"Yes, they are, but Taylor will soon shake them." I have utmost faith in his driving skills. Also, thank fuck for tinted windows. Nobody is going to take unauthorised photos of my Anastasia, if I can help it.

She chances a little peek further out from her handcrafted cocoon. Her eyes widen when she sees another man besides Taylor in the front seat.

"Anastasia, you know Taylor. The other man is Sawyer." Sawyer turns around and gives her a wide smile which is reciprocated. I feel a pang of jealously, that perfect smile should only be for me, not any other man.

"Hi Sawyer," she grins. "I'll put you into my journal when I get to work." It's my turn to smile. She hasn't forgotten the task that I've set her. I'm looking forward to having a read at that later. She turns back to me. "I didn't know that you trusted anyone but Taylor."

There we are, back to trust again. I can almost predict the response that will follow my next statement. "Sawyer is to be your close personal protection." She frowns, the little crease between her eyebrows deepening as she mouths the words to herself. The expected realisation sets in and she tries to wriggle into a sitting position, but it's easy to hold her firm. The blanket makes quite an effective restraining device. It'd be completely useless in the playroom, but here in the back of the car, it's perfect.

"A bodyguard? Christi-, I mean Sir, you can't give me a bodyguard." I give her my best Dom glare and she subdues for a beat. "No offence to Sawyer, if you trust him, I'm sure he's very good at his close-personal-protectioning, but I don't need it." I stare my unruly little sub down and finally she drops her eyes.

"Miss Steele, if you continue to protest, I shall take action." I use my free hand to point to the handkerchief in my breast pocket. "Consider this your one and only warning. I will use this to silence you, regardless of who is travelling with us." Her eyes fly to the front of the car. Taylor is focussed on the road, hands on the wheel. He has heard and seen a lot worse than that. Sawyer gives a fleeting glance to Taylor, but when they don't engage, Sawyer straightens up, and recomposes himself. Apart from flashing those winning smiles to my girl, with his efficient discretion and adaptability, he has already begun to prove his worth. Again, this is why I trust Taylor, I'm quite sure that he will fill the newbie in on the finer nuances of the NDA.

"Uhm, May I ask a question, Sir?" When she is so compliant, I swear my dick swells like a teenager. Taking over a company, controlling whether I choose that merges into GEH, or stands alone, does not give me nearly the same head rush as knowing that I can dominate a woman like Anastasia. It's not just the domination, it's the awareness that I have her submission. If she yelled that I was kidnapping her, or threatening to rape her, I would let her go immediately. Delicately beautiful surrender, like that innate in my girl, is a wonder to behold. I nod in acknowledgement and she continues, "Where are we going?"

"We are going to Escala." She frowns and shakes her head. I have to give a dry chuckle, she is being obedient and heeding my warning, although I can tell she wants to speak, but I'm not giving her permission.

"Anastasia, we are going to the apartment because I want to ensure your well-being." My free thumb strokes her cheek, my left arm still holding her firm. I'm vaguely aware of pins and needles setting in, but I'm not letting her go. She flinches slightly, no doubt at the mention of her 'well-being', but I choose to ignore it. "You belong to me Anastasia, and I will always protect what is mine. Dr Greene, will make a house visit, just to ensure that you are not suffering any undue stress." I doubt that she is, but I am not taking any chances with her health

"No!"

I raise an eyebrow at her sudden small protest. "No?"

"I mean, it's not necessary, Sir."

"Anastasia, this matter is closed, and I think you have shared enough opinions on the matter for one day."

Once again, she wriggles, this time a little more forcefully. "Noooo! I'm dressed for work, I have to go to GEH!" Whilst I admire her work ethic, I will win this argument. I curl her in close to my chest and surreptitiously take my handkerchief from my pocket. Those baby blues widen in shock and she presses her lips firmly together, so much so that they almost disappear. She shakes her head. "Mmmh, mmh!"

I dip my head so that our foreheads almost touch. "I warned you, Anastasia. Now open." I have never tolerated bratty submissives, and Anastasia, although she is still learning, must appreciate that a good Dom does not make idle threats where punishments or discipline are involved. Her lips part slightly, the dainty rosebud colour returning, and using my linen-wrapped finger, twist the handkerchief into her mouth. She doesn't make another peep. To spare her any embarrassment, I bunch a little wall of quilt around her face, so that the guys in the front cannot see her. I don't know whether Sawyer is in the lifestyle, but Taylor knows that I am. He is also well aware of the tenets, safe, sane and consensual. I drop a kiss on her forehead and she gives a soft mewl, and snuggles in to me. "Good girl," I whisper. She is safe with me. I have an overwhelming urge to protect her. I look up to the backs of their heads, the matching buzzcuts of Taylor and Sawyer silhouetted against the early morning sun. We will all keep her safe.

* * *

It's only been a few minutes, but finally we are in the dark cavernous garage of Escala, away from prying eyes and long range camera lenses. As Sawyer steps out to open the door, I take the handkerchief out of her mouth. It isn't a gag for silencing someone, but serves as a reminder of submission. She could have spat or pushed it out at any time, but she didn't. I stroke her hair, and murmur reassurances in her ear. She is truly trying to be a good sub, and I take so much more pleasure out of training her when it doesn't all revolve around pain, although there is nothing as cathartic as a good spanking, for both Dom and sub.

When we arrive, Dr Greene is already sitting there, a small medical bag on her lap. Gently, I set Anastasia on the couch and unwrap her from the quilt. The apartment isn't cold, but she gives a little involuntary shiver, and I replace it loosely around her shoulders.

"Good morning, Mr Grey, Miss Steele." She stands up and extends her hand. This woman is all business and it's the way I like it. "I believe you have had quite an eventful morning." I repress a snort. If feeling like you are about to witness your house being swarmed in a home invasion of photographers, then yes it was eventful. She gives me a glance and chooses to concentrate on our patient. "Where would you like to be seen, Miss Steele? It's your choice."

Anastasia looks up to me for approval, and whilst I want to be there, this is her decision. "Anastasia, you may be seen here, or in your bedroom, where it's a little more private."

"Uhm, in my bedroom please." She tries to stand, and I leap to help her, catching her by curling my arm around her waist as she almost topples over. "But, would you mind if Si-, I mean Christian came too." Dr Greene merely nods, and whilst that's what I try to do, my heart swells and thumps like a character in one of those old Looney Tunes cartoons that I used to watch with Mia. Anastasia trusts me to be there with her.

"I will carry you Anastasia." She pauses, considering a protest, but her own common sense quashes it. I lead the way followed by Dr Greene.

"Well, Miss Steele," Dr Greene pops on her stethoscope and slides it under Anastasia's shirt. "Take a few deep breaths." Easing the buds back out of her ears, she sits back and asks my girl to roll up her shirt so that she can take her blood pressure. As she pumps up the sphygmomanometer, and then releases, she watches the numbers flash on the digital screen but her face is impassive. I am at once impressed and pissed off. I need to know what she is thinking, and I need to know that the events this morning have not caused Anastasia any long term trauma.

"What did you eat for breakfast, Miss Steele?" Anastasia's cheeks pinken, as she whispers that she didn't eat this morning, and mouths a small 'sorry' to me. I clench and unclench my hands. This is not the time to lose my temper, but I'm furious with her. This was one of the rules, the rules to which she had signed her name. I'll deal with this when Dr Greene leaves. At the minute she's too vulnerable for a spanking, although it's really what I'd like to do. "It's the most important meal of the day," she chastises. Yes, I could get used to having this medical professional as Anastasia's personal physician.

"Ladies, if you will excuse me, I shall go and ask Mrs Jones to prepare something for Miss Steele to eat." I give my shamefaced disobedient sub a firm glare. It will also give me time to make a few phone calls.

* * *

One of the best things about being me is that with the casual drop of my name, my PA Andrea can get through to just about anyone. I type her a quick email giving details of who I need, no want to speak with today. In the meantime I get on with my other calls, and I get Barney on the phone

"Hey Boss, Welch here."

"Barney. You will know by now that there was an altercation with some photographers at Anastasia's apartment this morning."

"Yup. Do you want to know what I've done about it?" I note Barney has used the past tense.

"Do I _want_ to know?" As Head of Security, I know that Barney won't actually break the law, but he is a creative genius when it comes to circumventing loopholes and finding weaknesses in IT systems. He works as part of a larger gatekeeper network for identifying and neutralising viruses. I'm glad he is on my team and not working for the dark side.

There is a pause on the phone. "Boss, I've created a mini web-bot with the meta tags of your name and Ana's, including variations." Obviously I'm the only person who calls her by her given name. "Any photograph that has been linked to your name will not be able to be viewed on the web. In addition, I will be able to track the IP addresses of any media outlet that has tried to upload them."

Like I said, a fucking genius. "Fine. That's good enough for me, Barney." Understatement of the year.

"No problem, Boss." The brief silence on the other end of the phone is broken by some folksy caterwauling. "We all look out for each other, you know that. The past shouldn't impact the future." I know to what, or rather to whom he is alluding, but I don't want to think about that any more. He is right. It's ancient history now. I'm so relieved about his work on blocking the digital images, I lighten the conversation.

"Indeed. What are you listening to, Barney? You need lessons on some quality music, not that hippie European fuzz." Perhaps that could be arranged as a scene. Barney would hate it and love it, and he hasn't merited a punishment of any kind in a while.

"Boss, we all don't listen to hoity toity classical. You should give lyric based music a try sometime." He chuckles as if he's seen me frown down the phone. "Maybe Ana will teach you a thing or two, if she can dust off that old gramophone of yours." Cheeky ball bag.

"And maybe I need to tell someone that you have been disrespectful a time or two." My tone is playful with Barney, I can't get mad with one of the few men that understand me. "Your acid sense of humour aside, I'll talk to you about Anastasia when I get in."

The next call might be easier. It's to Elliott, and he's back to his usual laconic self. How he keeps his cool is beyond me. "Hey bro, how are things with Ana? After you left with the press pack chasing you, Kate and I were able to slip out. She's gone to work now and she is not happy about our relationship being dissected in Seattle Nooz."

I care about Kate to the extent that the law requires, but Elliott likes her, so I take an interest, for him. "How is she doing?"

"She's fine, that one has a crocodile skin, and we are both smart enough not to let this sour things for long. She's not enamoured with you though," he snickers, not in the least bit perturbed by the personality clash between his overbearing girlfriend and myself. "And, she's more concerned about Ana, given that she's this morning's media obsession."

"As long as I don't have to date her, _bro_, she can think what she likes." A ball breaker like Kate Kavanagh might be a perfect match for easygoing Elliott, but that mouthy attitude makes her a spoiled princess in my book.

"Yeah, I told her that." As long as they are on the same page, I don't care. "She thinks that you treat Ana like a possession." He pauses and I can almost hear his brain ticking over. "Different strokes for different folks, bro. I know you'd never compromise Ana."

_Absolutely no-fucking way_, and the way she's getting under my skin, I think I'd throttle anyone who did. "No, Lelliot, I can assure you that Anastasia's safety is my primary concern." I glance at my screen and see an email back from Andrea . That woman is worth every penny of her salary. "I have to go now. I need to see if I can keep the rest of those pictures out of the public domain."

"Okay, bro. We'll catch up on Sunday. Laters." I press call end. Elliott really needs to learn how to construct a sentence.

I check out the number that Andrea sent, and click on the link.

"Kavanagh here."

Ah. Terse and to the point, and like me, he answers with just his surname. If he doesn't try to turn this into a pissing contest, we might get somewhere. "Hello, Grey here. I have a matter I'd like to discuss."

"Ah, Christian Grey, one of the brothers that has made my daughter's private life public." I roll my eyes. Kavanagh started as a journalist for fuck's sake, and you'd have to have lived under a rock to think that Kate an innocent virgin. I couldn't care about Kate's image. This is about my Anastasia. Deep breaths, Grey. Judging from his tone, the photographers were not sent there by his people.

"That is why I'm calling you, today. I know that great pictures help to sell print media, but I would be very grateful if you could embargo any images that might be touted your way."

"Embargo? For how long?" At least Kavanagh hasn't said no.

"Indefinitely. I will of course pay you for any losses that you may suffer following this decision."

"Grey, you know as well as I do that print media is a declining industry. However, there are still some areas that generate income." Aha, now we are getting somewhere.

"What do you want, Kavanagh?" I have an idea what he wants, ever the newshound looking for the scoop. I will need buy-in from Anastasia, and she isn't emotionally ready to make that decision.

"I want exclusive pictures of the happy couple. Seattle's most eligible bachelor and the sweet ingénue that stole his heart." Fuck. I was right. Publicity shots, plastic and airbrushed with pithy taglines.

I hear a small kerfuffle and I spin in my chair to see her tiptoe into my office, with a shy half-smile and fuck, she's biting her lip. My dick doesn't so much twitch as stand to attention.

"I'll get back to you on that. I need to check it out with my people."

"Don't wait too long, Grey. A blossom like Ana needs care and attention." I hang up. What the fuck is it with the world offering advice on how I should keep my own Anastasia safe. For a second I'm fifteen again, filled with self doubt.

Before last night I was never seen in a picture with a woman who wasn't either my mother or a business partner. My subs were always behind the scenes. My private life was private, and the one sub that I thought would be more ... I'm not going there, and instead focus on the beautiful woman in front of me. She won't need airbrushing, her natural beauty shines through. By managing the print photos, it'd go a long way to protecting our privacy. But, it's been less than a week. I already know I want more than a month from Anastasia. Three more weekends in the playroom isn't going to be enough time with her. But does she want more from me?


End file.
